Where the Heart Lies
by Ranguvar27
Summary: Willard Stiles is a shy young man with a close connection to the rats in his basement. When he meets Annabelle Carsons, he begins to feel his life  is changing for the better.  Chapters 1-10 contain spoilers for movie. Rating Now changed to M
1. Chapter 1 Meetings

Where the Heart Lies

Chapter One Meetings

Annabelle Carsons was in a hurry, angry, and tired. She had just been informed that her job was on the line-apparently her boss didn't fully appreciate the imitation she had done of him as an old, frustrated despot. On top of that, the heat was off in her apartment, she was two weeks behind on her rent, and the only food she had left in her fridge was a jar of pickles and a half a gallon of grape juice. She had braved the cold wind to walk to the bus station only to find out she had no fare money. She walked the six blocks to the store, cursing fate, life, buses, her boss, and every other thing she could think of. The wind was bitterly cold, and by the time she reached the large supermarket she was shivering.

"Damn winter, damn cheap jacket, damn doors, damn, damn, damn!" She stalked up and down the aisles, filling her basket with the cheapest foods she could find, wishing that she had enough money to buy her favorite food-chocolate. But even the cheapest candy was out of her strict budget, so she had to settle for simply sighing in longing as she walked down the candy aisle.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn't notice the man in front of her until it was too late. They collided, and Abbie's basket went flying, her food scattering everywhere, and she watched in horror as the glass container the grape juice was in smashed against the tile floor, shattering into a million pieces. She fell on her butt with a grunt of surprise, and the man she had run into fell back against the shelves, spilling packages of skittles. He quickly straightened himself up, and began stammering out an apology.

"I…I…I'm so sorry, Miss! I…are you alright?" He bent down and began to gather her food up, all the while stammering his apologies.

Abbie begin to giggle, and he looked at her, slight bemusement and hurt in his gaze. He was rather handsome, Abbie thought to herself. He had somewhat pale skin, black hair, and the bluest eyes she had ever seen. He had the air of someone who has been beaten and cowed for much of their life, his clothes looked like they had been worn quite a lot-his jacket was beginning to fray at the wrists, and Abbie felt a wave of pity for him. She stood, brushing off her coat and pants, silently glad that she had managed to avoid sitting in the juice, and smiled at him.

"I'm fine, thank you. No serious harm done, unless you count my dignity and the grape juice. I should be the one apologizing for running into you. But, since we did run into each other, I think introductions are in order." She stuck her hand out. "I'm Annabelle Carsons. Call me Abbie."

He shook it, and smiled shyly. "Willard Stiles. I...I don't have a nickname."

Abbie beamed at him. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Willard. What brings you out to the store on a day like this?"

"Rats."

Abbie blinked, confused. "Rats?"

He nodded, and held up a rattrap. "My mother thinks there are rats in the basement, so I came here looking for something to get rid of them. I haven't seen them, but Mother can be very insistent." He sighed. "She's probably wondering where I am. I need to get going. It…it was nice to meet you."

He handed her the basket, then turned and walked back up the aisle. Abbie stared after him, a slight smile on her face. 'What an odd person. Sweet, but odd.' She continued shopping, making sure to grab a plastic bottle of juice this time.

She paid for her purchases, walked out the door, and was immediately assailed by a hard, heavy rain. She gasped for breath and ducked under the sparse shelter offered by the store's overhang, cursing and crying.

"DAMN IT!"

She was stuck. No bus fare, no cab fare, and it was pouring down rain. She was already soaked to the bone, and her grocery bags-cheap paper-were already beginning to deteriorate. She slumped against the wall, sobbing.

Willard walked out of the store and was about to make a dash for his car when he noticed someone slumped against the wall of the store. He looked closer, and realized it was the young woman he had run into. Her dark hair was plastered against her face, and her hazel eyes were bright with tears. Willard felt a stab of pity, and walked over to her, placing his hand tentatively on her arm. She looked up at him.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly, and she shook her head.

"I have no bus fare, I'm cold, wet, my groceries are spilling everywhere, I might lose my job, I'm behind on my rent, and my tailbone hurts! Of course I'm not fucking alright!" She yelled, and Willard flinched. "I'm sorry. It's just my life has been a bit shitty these past few weeks."

Willard smiled in understanding, and then said something that shocked him. "Well, could I give you a lift home?" He blinked, shocked at the sentence that had just come out of his mouth. He had never offered to give anyone a ride, especially not a woman he had just met ten minutes ago. But there was something about Annabelle Carsons that put him at ease. He couldn't explain it, but he felt comfortable around her.

Abbie looked at him in surprise. "Umm…that's very sweet of you, but, I don't want to put you out…"

Willard smiled at her, and then took her bag from her arms. "You aren't, trust me. I've got a car, and you need a way to get home."

Abbie paused, still uncertain. "Your mother?"

"She can wait. Come on, I'll give you a lift. My car's just down that row." He turned away, and then looked back at her. "Coming?"

She nodded, and they dashed to his car, piling in as quickly as they could. It was cold, but at least it was dry. Willard started the car. "The heat should kick on soon. Where do you live?"

"Shhh…Shhha…Shady Groves Apartment Complex," Abbie said, shivering. "Is…is that out of your way?" Willard shook his head, and smiled at her.

"No, it's actually right on my way."

Abbie sighed as the heater kicked on. "Mmmm…warmth. Where do you live?"

Willard flushed. "Ummm…with my mother, in the house on the hill. She's sick, and I have to stay and take care of her. It…It's hard, especially since my job doesn't pay nearly enough."

"I know the feeling. Where do you work?"

"I'm a clerk in my Father's company." He sighed bitterly. "Of course, it's more Mr. Martin's company now. He bought out my father years ago, and we've never gotten along. Fortunately, one of the stipulations my father made was that I couldn't be fired."

Abbie chuckled quietly. "Smart move."

Willard shrugged. "I guess. Where do you work?"

"Right now I'm an assistant at Steiner and Sons Law Firm, which basically means I'm a glorified gofer. I do light typing, take messages, and make coffee, all for a vast sum of ten dollars an hour, which is not nearly enough to cover the rent on my apartment, but I can't find another job because no one is hiring. So I have weeks when I have to choose between paying the rent or having food. Food won out this time."

Willard looked over at her. "Must be tough." He winced as he realized how that had sounded.

She scoffed bitterly. "Yeah. Well, I think I see my apartment building coming up, so thanks for the ride and you can just drop me off here."

Willard flinched at the cold tone of her voice. "I'm sorry, that came out completely lopsided. I'm not really good around people." He gave her a small smile, and she sighed.

"Apology accepted."

Willard grinned. "Do you still want me to drop you off at the curb?"

Abbie laughed. "No, I think you can drop me off in front of my building."

"Will do." He pulled up at the building she indicated, and then helped her out of the car. The rain had stopped, and there was a distinct chill in the air.

After making sure she would be able to get up the stairs alright, Willard said his farewells and was about to leave when he heard her shout his name. He turned, and she pressed a torn scrap of paper into his hand. "My phone number. I can't guarantee my phone will be working, but still, I want you to have it."

"Ohh…ummmm…thank you." He flushed, patting his pockets. "I…should probably give you mine…ummm….I don't have anything to write with…" Abbie handed him her pen, and he tore a piece of his receipt and jotted down his number, then handed her the paper and her pen. "Will…will you call me?"

"Of course. I like you, Willard. You're odd. Sweet, but odd."

Willard flushed deeper. "Ohhh…ummm…thanks." Abbie smiled at him, then turned and walked up to her apartment.

Willard watched her leave, his heart feeling indescribably light. He turned and headed back to his car, a grin on his face.

Later that night, after he had made his mother as comfortable as he could, he lay in his bed, thoughts of brown hair, hazel eyes, and a shy smile running through his mind.

He hoped to run into Annabelle Carsons again.


	2. Chapter 2 A Budding Friendship

Where the Heart Lies

Chapter Two A Budding Friendship

Willard bolted out of bed, shocked and scared by the loud squeaks coming from the basement. He ran down the stairs, not bothering to put on his robe, and cursed to himself as his mother woke, screeching her new name for him. 'Clark.' He ignored her, racing down to the basement, and shone his flashlight on a strange sight.

A small white rat was scooting across the floor, its hindquarters caught in one of the glue traps he had laid out, squeaking madly as it tried to escape. Willard slowly descended the basement steps, a hand trowel clutched in his right fist, and was about to bring it crashing down on the rat when he heard a squeak from above. He looked up and into the eyes of a larger white rat, clearly the younger one's mother. The mother rat gave him a pleading look, and Willard felt a rush of shame. He placed the trowel on a nearby bench, then bent down and scooped up the rat, cooing softly. The rat squeaked in fear, and Willard stroked it, speaking softly.

"There now, it's alright. It's alright." He frowned at the trap-the poor rat was pretty well stuck, and he didn't want to try and pull it off and run the risk of hurting it. He huffed in exasperation-he had thrown away the package the trap came in.

He made his way upstairs, breathing a sigh of relief when his mother didn't start yelling for him. He rifled through the garbage, giving a soft yell of triumph when he found the package, and quickly scanned it-vegetable oil would remove the glue. He grabbed a bottle from the shelf and hurried into the bathroom, locking the door.

He freed the rat, and it chattered at him, rubbing its nose against his hand. Willard grinned. "You know, apart from getting caught in that trap, you're pretty smart. You need a smart name. Socrates."

The rat-Socrates-showed his appreciation of the name by nuzzling Willard, and he smiled. "Hello, Socrates." He groaned as he heard a knock on the door and his mother's querulous voice asking him what he was doing.

"I'm going potty!" He replied, and then groaned again at her reply.

"You've been in there an awful long time!"

Willard clenched his teeth, trying to stay calm.

'Oh for the love of…' "I'm…I'm not feeling good."

"Is it soft…or hard?"

Willard gagged. 'She did not just ask me that!' He sighed, speaking calmly. "I'm…I'm okay. I'm okay."

Mrs. Stiles rattled the knob, speaking in a firm voice. "Let me see. I'm still your mother, Willard! Let me in!"

'Son of a. bitch...' He carefully placed Socrates in a bathroom drawer, and then slipped out, covering his mother's face with his hand and steering her towards her room. "You should be in bed, Mother. You're feverish. Come on, let's get you to bed."

Mrs. Stiles allowed him to lead her, muttering all the while, then stopped, sniffing at his hand. "What's that on your hand?"

"I…it's soap." Willard stammered, and his mother gave him a look of disgust.

"It's cooking oil! Willard, you're far too old to be doing…that! When are you going to find yourself a girl?"

Willard flushed in embarrassment. "Well…I did meet a nice girl at the market last week, but…"

Mrs. Stiles sneered at him. "But you were too much of a mouse to ask for her number, right? It's your name, you know. A weak name makes for a weak person, Willard. That's such an awful name. Clark. Clark is a good, strong name."

Willard gripped her pillow, breathing slowly. "I…I like my name. It's…different."

He propped her up, and she gazed helplessly at him, grabbing his wrist with a bony hand. "Clark, you'll always take care of me, right?"

Willard froze, and then gave her a small smile. "Of course I will, Mother. I'll always look after you."

"You…you won't leave me the way your father did?"

Willard shuddered at the horrible memory, and suddenly it was as though he was back at that awful night all those years ago-forcing the bathroom door open, at first not understanding why it had been locked, then seeing his father's sightless eyes staring at him, the pocketknife still stuck in his wrist and the water in the tub a sickly pink color that shone harshly in the bright glare of the fluorescents. Willard had screamed in horror, and his mother had come running, and the sight of her husband lolling in the tub like a life sized marionette with broken strings sent her into sobbing hysterics. Willard had to drag her out of the bathroom.

"Clark! Clark!"

He snapped back to the present at the sound of his mother's voice, and smiled reassuringly at her. "I'll never do anything like that, I promise. Get some sleep, Mother."

He gently kissed her forehead, and then ventured down to the basement, ready to return Socrates to his family. But the rat had other ideas, and Willard carried him up to his bedroom, gently petting him.

"Goodnight, Socrates. Sleep well."

The next morning dawned grey and drizzly, matching Willard's mood. His morning had been lousy from the moment he woke up. His car wouldn't start, and he was forced to take the bus to work, making him late-again. He trotted across the parking lot as quickly as he could, noting with envy that once again Frank Martin had a brand new car. It was a nice one, too-a Mercedes.

Then he had been locked in the elevator by his asshole of a boss and forced to listen to him pontificate on how he was so much better and more successful than Willard would ever be. Willard bore the abuse as best he could, shaking only when Mr. Martin made a crack at his father. After Mr. Martin had expelled a bit of his venom and stalked off to his office, Willard began to struggle to free the lock from the elevator. "Goddamn bastard…come on…"

Cathryn came forward, sympathy in her gaze, and freed the lock, allowing the elevator to open. Willard quickly stepped out, walking as fast as he could towards the office, ignoring Cathryn's query if he was okay.

Abbie sighed, leaning back in her chair with a groan, and looked at the clock. Eleven thirty, and she was starving. But her boss was strict-lunch was from 12 noon to one pm, no exceptions and no deviations from the schedule, and she knew from experience that she would catch holy hell if she ate at her desk. She had not had a very large breakfast-a piece of toast with jelly and a cup of tea, and her stomach was rumbling. Damn, she thought, I need food!

She sighed, and tried to distract herself by focusing on the brief Mr. Steiner Jr. had asked her to type up. It was all in legal mumbo jumbo, and secretly Abbie wondered if he could actually understand it. She had never said anything out loud, but the younger Steiner creeped her out. Whenever he was in the office, he would stare at her, his piggy eyes bright and hungry. She dressed modestly, but her breasts still showed, and he would let his gaze wander over them while he talked to her in a breathy, nasally voice, sending cold shivers up her spine. But she didn't dare say anything to his father-nepotism was practically a bylaw in the firm, and 'family came far ahead of some airheaded assistant', as she had been told once.

She chanced another look at the clock and sighed in relief. Lunchtime! She grabbed her wallet and ran out the door, heading to the closest fast food joint she could find, and ordered a cheeseburger and fries, then discovered to her shame that she had less money than she thought. She frantically rummaged through her pockets, feeling the glare of the cashier on her back. "I…I think I have another dollar here somewhere…"

A hand with a five dollar bill reached out, and Abbie heard a soft voice. "I'll pay for it." Abbie turned and stared at her benefactor, and he smiled at her. "Remember me?"

Abbie nodded. "Hello, Willard."

Willard smiled at her. "Hello, Abbie. Would you mind if I had lunch with you?"

Abbie blushed, shaking her head, and Willard grinned shyly. "Great! Umm…let's eat outside. It's a bit crowded in here."

Abbie looked around. The booths and tables were jam packed full. "Good idea. We'll be able to hear ourselves think. Outside it is, Willard!"

They found a table under shelter-it was threatening rain-and began eating, a comfortable silence between them. Abbie munched her fries, noticing that Willard's jacket pocket was wriggling. "Willard?"

"Hmm?"

"What's in your pocket?"

He blinked, surprised. "What's in my…Oh! Socrates." He gave her a secretive smile. "It's Socrates."

Abbie stared at him, and then replied drily, "You have a dead philosopher in your jacket pocket? How'd you manage to make him fit?"

Willard stared at her, and then laughed. "No…no, this is Socrates." He gently drew forth the white rat. "Socrates, this is Abbie. Abbie, meet Socrates."

Abbie spoke softly. "Hello, Socrates. Where'd you get him, Willard?"

"My basement. Turns out Mother was right about the rats." He sighed, and then smiled at her. "Would you like to hold him? He's really soft."

Abbie held her hand out, and Willard gently placed Socrates on her palm. She stroked him with the tips of her fingers, speaking in a soothing tone. "Hello there. You are a handsome one, aren't you? And a clever one too, I'd imagine. Nearly as handsome as your owner."

Willard blushed at hearing Abbie call him handsome and Socrates chittered softly and ran up Abbie's arm to nuzzle her cheek. "He likes you."

Abbie grinned. "Well, I like him too."

Willard smiled, and then toyed with his fries, trying to think of something clever to say, or hell-trying to think of anything to say. He took a breath, and words tumbled out of his mouth. "You're a very beautiful woman." He clamped his mouth shut, horrified, certain he had blown everything. "I…I'm sorry, that was…I…"

He rose to leave, and Abbie placed her hand on his arm. "You don't have to go yet. I've still got…ten minutes of lunch time left, and I'd much rather spend it talking to you. And thank you for the compliment, by the way."

Willard looked at her, uncertain. "You sure?" She nodded, and he smiled in relief and sat back down, giving a cry of protest when she snitched three of his fries. "Hey!"

Abbie smirked at him. "Mine were getting cold."

He raised his eyes at her, skeptical, but decided to say nothing. "Where are you from, Abbie?"

"I was born in Roanoke."

"Virginia?"

Abbie nodded. "That's where Roanoke is."

"You don't have an accent."

Abbie nodded. "I know. I only lived there for five years. My Dad was a Lieutenant in the Army, active duty, and we moved a lot. I've lived in Georgia, Kentucky, California, Nevada, Texas, Kansas, Missouri, South Carolina, and Germany."

"That must have been hard on you, having to move so often."

"It was, but it's something I got used to eventually. When I was fifteen, Dad got an honorable discharge and a Purple Heart, and we settled down in North Carolina." She shut her eyes, then opened them and stared at him in slight grief and anger. "One year later, a drunk college boy on his way home from a party slams into their car at over a hundred miles an hour. All three died instantly."

Willard flinched, and placed his hand on top of hers. "I'm sorry. My dad died when I was young as well, and my mother…she hasn't been the same since. I know what it's like to lose a parent."

Abbie nodded sadly. "If it's not too forward of me, how did he die?"

"It's not too forward. He…killed himself. Slashed his wrists in the tub with a pocketknife. I was the one that found him."

Abbie's hand flew to her mouth in sympathy. "Oh, Willard, I'm so sorry. That must have been devastating."

He nodded. "It was, but I've done my share of grieving. I honestly don't mind your asking."

Abbie sighed in relief. "Good, then…" her eyes went wide as she caught sight of his watch. "Is that watch right? !"

Willard glanced at it. "Yes, why?" He blinked in shock as Abbie stood up, cursing.

"Shit! I'm ten minutes over my lunch hour! I have to go, Willard! Oh, I'm going to catch holy hell from my boss!" She handed him back Socrates, then tossed her leftover food in the garbage and took off, leaving him stunned.

He had returned to the office and tried to work, but the thought of Abbie kept distracting him.

Later that night, he worked up the courage to try and call her. He picked up and put down the phone five times before finally dialing her number, hoping it was still connected. "Come on…pick up…"

"_Hello?" _

"Abbie?"

"_Mmm hmm. Who's this?" _

"It's Willard. I…I hope you didn't get in too much trouble because of me."

"_Oh, no. I still have a job. I told my boss the buses were running slow. He believed me." _

Willard smiled in relief. "So…I'm still on your good side?"

"_You bet, handsome." _

Willard chuckled, and then took a breath. "Abbie, would you maybe like to go see a movie on Saturday? My treat. I'll even spring for the popcorn."

"_I'd love to!" _

Willard felt his heart soar. "Great! Ummm…I'll pick you up at seven, we could maybe grab a bite to eat after?"

"_It's a date." _

"Great. Well…I'll…see you then…I…ummm…should probably let you go, it's late…"

"_Yeah, but I'm not real tired. Are you?" _

Willard smiled, knowing she couldn't see him. "Not really. My mother's sound asleep, so if you want to, we could talk for a little bit?"

"_Sounds like a plan." _

A 'little bit' turned into eight hours. When Willard finally hung up the phone, his ear ached and he was bone-tired, but happier than he had ever been in his life.

He laid back, his arms above his head, and smiled. 'I have two friends now.'

His life was starting to look up.


	3. Chapter 3 Movies and Moments

Where the Heart Lies

Chapter Three Movies and Moments

The week passed by rather slowly for Willard, and as Saturday approached he found himself becoming more and more nervous. He hadn't been on a date in…well, ever, and he had no idea what he was supposed to say or do. Should he bring Abbie flowers? Would she get upset if he paid for dinner? How was he supposed to dress, what was he supposed to say when he picked her up? He needed answers to these questions, and decided to ask Cathryn. He looked across his desk at her, speaking quietly so that Mrs. Leach couldn't hear.

"Cathryn, can I ask you a question?"

She smiled at her friend. "Of course, Willard."

Willard gulped, and then spoke in a nervous tone. "I…have a date this Saturday, and I have no idea what I'm supposed to do or say. I thought maybe you could give me some help?"

Cathryn beamed at him. "You have a date? That's wonderful! What's her name?"

Willard smiled dreamily. "Annabelle. But she prefers Abbie. We met at the market a few weeks ago."

Cathryn laughed at the dreamy expression on Willard's face. "You must have taken quite the fancy to her." Willard blushed, and Cathryn grinned. "So I take it you want the first date to go well?"

"I want it to be perfect."

Cathryn looked thoughtful. "Perfect, huh? Okay, first of all-don't try to be someone you aren't. In other words, don't try to impress her. Nothing kills a date faster than a man that boasts about how great and macho he is. Just be your normal self, and the date will be a success, I promise."

Willard nodded. "Right. Well, what about flowers? Are they a requirement? How should I dress? Should I compliment her on her outfit? Should I arrive at her apartment early?"

Cathryn smiled. "Flowers are a nice gesture, but it's better if you know what sort of flowers she would like. Is she a rose girl, does she like daisies? Believe me, this is important."

Willard frowned. "Couldn't I just make a guess and hope she'll like the flowers I picked out?"

"You could, but it's risky. As for what to wear-dress casual, but formal. No blue jeans, in other words. Do you have any casual outfits?"

"Ummm…I don't know. I've got some dark pants and dress shirts. Would that work?"

Cathryn nodded. "Yeah, that would work."

Willard sighed in relief. "Good. Thank you, Cathryn. You've been very helpful."

Cathryn smiled at him. "You're welcome, and I hope you'll introduce me to Abbie someday. I'd love to meet her."

Willard grinned. "I will, I promise." He pulled a purchase order down and was about to fill it out when a bloodcurdling scream came from out in the hall. Everyone froze, and Mr. Martin came storming out of his office, his face red with anger.

"What the hell was that shrieking?"

No answer, and Martin huffed in anger and was about to walk back to his office when the scream sounded again.

"HELP! LET ME OUT! PLEASE! SOMEBODY!"

Willard's eyes went wide. "That's Abbie's voice!" He bolted out of the office, running as fast as he could towards the elevator.

Martin looked around, bemused. "Who the hell is Abbie?"

Willard reached the elevator, and his heart stopped. Abbie was pressed against the back wall, her eyes closed. She was shivering in terror, and whimpering. Willard came forward and opened the doors, speaking in a soothing voice. "Abbie?"

Abbie's eyes flew open. "Wi…Willard?"

"Yeah, it's me. Are you…" he was interrupted in his thoughts when Abbie practically flew out of the elevator and clung to him, sobbing and shaking. He was shocked for a brief instant, and then he wrapped his arms around her, gently stroking her back. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Abbie sniffled, speaking in a muffled voice. "I'm an idiot, that's what's wrong. I thought I'd be alright for just a few floors, and the stairs didn't look that safe."

Willard laughed softly. "Yeah, the stairs are pretty scary. But why were you screaming?"

"The…door got stuck, and I couldn't open it. I'm claustrophobic."

Willard's eyes widened in understanding. "Oh."

Abbie wiped her eyes, giving him a small smile. "I actually came here for a reason. I wanted to give you something." She handed him a small bag. "I stopped by the bakery on my way here. I hope you like it."

Willard opened the bag, his eyes widening with joy. Inside was a chocolate donut with sprinkles-one of his favorite indulgences, and one he very rarely got to enjoy. Best of all, the bag was still warm. He beamed at Abbie. "Thank you! But how did you know this was my favorite?"

Abbie laughed. "I didn't, actually. I just picked out one I thought you'd like. Besides, everyone loves chocolate."

Willard grinned and was about to answer her when he heard his boss's voice from behind him. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Willard? You are wasting the company's time! Worse, you are wasting my time! There is a stack of purchase orders piled up on that mess you call a desk, and you're standing here chatting! Just who the hell are you, lady?"

Abbie gazed coolly at him. "Annabelle Carsons, who are you? No, wait-let me see if I can guess." She rubbed her chin thoughtfully, and then snapped her fingers in mock discovery. "You're the winner of the Asshole of the Month Award! Oh, it's such an honor to meet you! This is truly a prestigious moment for me. Willard, why didn't you tell me you knew such a lofty gentleman?"

Mr. Martin gawped at Abbie, his mouth working silently. She gave him a level gaze, and he turned and headed back down the hall, eyes still wide with disbelief. Abbie chuckled in triumph. "Plonker."

Willard bit his lip, trying to hold back the laughter that was bubbling up. But he was unsuccessful. He leaned against the wall, eyes streaming with tears as he laughed. "Abbie that was the most brilliant thing I have ever seen! The look on his face…" He went off into a fresh peal of laughter. "Utterly, completely brilliant!"

Abbie giggled, bowing slightly. "Why thank you. That was Mr. Martin, I take it?"

Willard nodded, still laughing. "Yeah, that was the bastard himself. He'll probably be a bit sore from the tongue lashing for a while."

"I hope you don't get in too much trouble, Willard."

Willard sighed. "I probably will, but not because of you. He just likes picking on me. But at least I'll have this lovely memory to fall back on. Well, that and the other day when he had to ride the subway. It seems as though someone had gotten into his garage and slashed the tires on his brand new Mercedes."

"Don't forget they also peed on the floor."

Willard and Abbie turned at the sound of the new voice, and Cathryn came forward, smiling at Abbie. "You must be Abbie. I'm Cathryn."

Abbie shook her outstretched hand, grinning. "Nice to meet you, Cathryn. Willard, I'm very glad I gave you a happy memory, but I've got to go. Lunch hour's almost over with, and I've got a bit of a ride ahead of me. I'll see you Saturday?"

Willard nodded, and Abbie grinned, and then kissed his cheek. "Later, handsome. Enjoy the donut." She turned and headed for the stairs, leaving a spellbound Willard in her wake.

Cathryn looked at Willard and chuckled. He was staring after Abbie, his hand on his cheek. "Willard? Come on, let's get back to work." Willard blinked at her.

"Huh? Oh…right…work." He followed Cathryn back to the office, a dreamy smile on his face.

Cathryn smiled to herself. 'He's really got it bad.'

Willard focused on the purchase orders, his cheek still burning where Abbie had kissed him.

The big night had finally rolled around, and Willard's stomach was in knots. He had showered and shaved, and was dressed in a dark blue dress shirt and black trousers. He examined himself in the mirror, and then looked over at Socrates, who was sitting on his pillow. "Well, what do you think?"

Socrates chittered, and Willard grinned. "Good. I think she'll like it too. Keep the peace while I'm gone, okay? Make sure Ben behaves himself." Socrates nodded, and Willard smiled. "Good boy. Wish me luck."

He straightened his collar, grabbed the flowers he had purchased-blue irises-and headed out the door, glad that his mother was sound asleep. Fortunately, he had told her about his date that morning and she had been shocked and surprised, but happy for him.

Willard smiled to himself as he recalled the phone call to Abbie the night before. They had both agreed that they weren't in the mood for a romantic movie, and dramas were also vetoed. They wanted a fun movie. After some discussion, they both agreed on _Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl._ Abbie had promised to not drool over Johnny Depp too much.

Abbie paced back and forth in her apartment, nervously wringing her hands. She wanted her date with Willard to be a good one. She had gone out shopping the day before, looking for the perfect first date outfit, and had finally found it-a light blue blouse with dark blue silk trousers and a pair of dark blue dress shoes-flats, as she hated wearing heels. To complete the ensemble, she had dug around in her jewelry box and found a lapis-lazuli necklace. She examined herself in the mirror, and grinned. "Not bad, Abbie. Not bad at all." She gulped as she heard a knock at the apartment door.

Willard stood in front of her apartment, the bouquet clutched in his nervous hands, his heart racing. The door opened, and his jaw dropped. Abbie looked absolutely gorgeous. He gulped, and found his voice. "Uhhh…hi. You look…umm…really….nice." He cursed inwardly, and Abbie beamed at him.

"Thank you. You look pretty handsome yourself. Are those flowers for me?"

"Huh? Oh! Yes." He blushed as he handed her the flowers, grinning when her eyes widened happily.

"I love irises! How did you…?"

He grinned. "I guessed. You didn't seem like a rose girl. Besides, irises are unique-like you."

Abbie blushed. "Ummm…let me go put these in some water, than I'll be ready. I'll just be one minute, I promise."

She dashed inside, found an empty jar, and quickly filled it with water, placing the irises inside, then dashed back out, beaming at Willard. "Okay. Let the date begin. Are we doing the movie first, then dinner, or dinner first then the movie?"

"I thought maybe we could do the movie first? That way we have more time during dinner to talk. We don't have to rush."

Abbie grinned. "Sounds like a plan."

Willard smiled. "Great."

They both enjoyed the movie, and Abbie snitched Willard's popcorn twice before he realized what she was doing. "I bought you your own bucket, you know."

Abbie popped a kernel into her mouth, watching as Captain Jack Sparrow and Barbossa battled it out in Isla de Muerta, and grinned. "I know, but stolen popcorn tastes better."

Willard gave her a sly grin. "Oh, does it? Well, if that's the case…" he reached over and snitched a handful of popcorn out of Abbie's bucket, popping it in his mouth. She gaped at him in mock anger.

"Hey!"

He smirked at her. "You're right, it does taste better."

Abbie mock frowned at him. "Thief."

Willard chuckled. "Pot, meet kettle." He looked down at his popcorn. "Well, I'm empty anyway."

"Me too."

Willard took their buckets, tossing them in the trash, and then headed back to his seat just in time to catch the triumphant escape of Captain Jack. "He's one lucky pirate."

Abbie laughed. "That he is. Well, where are we having dinner?"

"I thought maybe we could try that new steak house down the road. It got a pretty decent write up in yesterday's paper, and it's open late."

Abbie grinned, looping her arm into his. "Steak sounds delicious. I'm starving, let's go eat."

Willard grinned back. "Alright, let's go."

The dinner went splendidly, and Willard found himself telling Abbie things he had never told anyone before, and she opened up about being an Army Brat and being moved from pillar to post. At one point, the subject of education had come up, and she had shyly admitted that she had been forced to drop out of university due to money problems. "I was studying to be a teacher. I got as far as my sophomore year, and then the money just wasn't there anymore. And I've never been a big spender. I've always wanted to go back, but real life keeps interfering."

Willard nodded in understanding. "I know what that's like. I sometimes resent having to stay and take care of Mother, but I can't afford to….well, find a place that will look after her."

"What about hiring someone?"

"I actually tried that a few years ago. The nurse quit after one week because Mother kept biting and hitting her. After that, I didn't dare try again, and we simply didn't have the money." He gave a bitter laugh. "I've got a giant house, and no money. Ironic, isn't it?"

Abbie placed her hand on his. "I'm sorry." Willard smiled shyly at her.

"That's alright. I shouldn't be burdening you with this stuff anyway. I say we change the subject."

Abbie smiled at him, and Willard felt his heart speed up. "Good idea. Do you have any other pets besides Socrates?"

Willard bit his lip. "Well…there's Ben, but I wouldn't call him a pet. He's pretty independent, and it can be a bit annoying at times. He bullies some of the smaller rats. Socrates keeps the peace as best he can, but I still worry."

Abbie frowned at him. "How many rats do you have, Willard?"

Willard pursed his lips in thought, and then shrugged. "I don't know. Quite a lot." He stared into Abbie's eyes, his voice excited. "They listen to me. They'll do whatever I tell them to do."

Abbie smiled. "Do they?" Willard nodded, and she grinned. "So you're the Rat King, then?"

Willard laughed. "I never thought of it like that, but yeah. I suppose I am. Does that scare you?"

Abbie stared at him for a moment, thinking. She had never been scared of rats, and the idea of Willard being able to control them was rather intriguing-and, she admitted to herself-more than a little sexy. To her, it made him even more appealing. "No, it doesn't scare me. I find it fascinating, actually."

Willard sighed in relief. "Really? You don't find it strange?" She shook her head, and he grinned. "Thank goodness. I was afraid to tell you at first. I didn't know how you'd react."

"What kind of rat is Ben?"

"He's a Gambian pouched rat."

Abbie's eyes widened. "Really? Big boy. How'd he end up in your basement?"

Willard shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe one of our neighbors had him as a pet and he escaped."

"Oh. Well, do you like him?"

Willard frowned. "In all honesty? Not really. I like Socrates best. Ben…Ben scares me sometimes." He chuckled quietly. "He's come upstairs a few times, and I'm always worried that Mother will see him. I'm afraid of what she'll do-she hates rats."

"Well, let's hope nothing happens."

Willard nodded. "Yeah. Ummm…how's your steak?"

"Delicious. This was a good idea, Willard."

Willard beamed at her.

After, he dropped her off at her apartment, walking her to the door. She paused, her hand on the knob, and smiled at him. "I had a really great time tonight."

"Me too, Abbie."

She smiled, and then kissed him lingeringly on the lips, her fingers gently stroking his face, and he moaned quietly, kissing her back and cupping her face in his hands, not wanting this perfect moment to end. He whimpered softly as she slowly released him, her eyes soft. "Goodnight, Willard."

Willard blinked, and then smiled softly at her. "Goodnight, Abbie."

He turned and walked back to his car, humming. 'This was, beyond a doubt, the most perfect night of my life.'


	4. Chapter 4 Karmic Revenge

Where the Heart Lies

Chapter Four Karmic Revenge

Willard awoke from a rather vivid dream involving Abbie and chocolate syrup, and flushed in embarrassment when he discovered that his pajama pants were rather soaked. He went into the bathroom and cleaned himself up, slightly mortified. He had been having these dreams more and more often since last Saturday, and the memory of her lips on his still shone in the forefront of his mind. She had tasted so good, he thought-a mix of cloves and peaches, and her lovely honey-and-spice scent left him reeling.

He pulled on a clean pair of pants and headed back to bed, then noticed that Socrates wasn't in his usual spot. Wondering what could have become of his little friend, he quietly stepped out of his room, tiptoeing down the hall. The last thing he wanted was to wake up his mother and have to answer her questions about what he was doing up so late.

He made his way down the basement steps, and gave a soft cry as he noticed Socrates. The white rat was standing over the body of his mother, chittering mournfully. He looked at Willard, a questioning look in his eyes, and Willard came forward, kneeling in front of the two rats. "Oh, Socrates, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

He looked around, trying to find something to put the mother rat in, and found a roll of black garbage bags. He carefully tore one off, wrapping momma rat gently in it, and then gently picked up Socrates, speaking softly. "She was a good mother, wasn't she, Socrates? Probably better than mine. She loved you, yeah?"

Socrates gave a sad squeak and nuzzled him, and Willard kissed his nose. "Of course she did. She was a good mother."

He sat for a few moments, thinking about his own mother-he loved her, but she could be rather unlikable, and there were times where he had to bite his tongue to keep from yelling at her, especially when she was in the grips of her senility. He would feel awful after, knowing that she had no control over what she said or did when in one of her states.

He was brought abruptly out of his thoughts by the sound of the phone ringing. He gave a small yelp of shock, and then cursed as he heard his mother's voice.

"Clark! Clark! What's going on?"

"Shitfire." He ran up the stairs, and his mother stared at him from her bedroom door, a scared look on her face and her nightgown clutched in her bony hand.

"It's nothing, Mother. Probably just a wrong number. I'll take care of it. Go on back to bed, alright?" The phone jangled again, and Willard turned towards it. "I'm coming! Mom, go on back to bed. It'll be alright."

Mrs. Stiles mumbled under her breath, but allowed Willard to lead her back to bed.

He sighed in relief, then walked to the living room and picked up the phone, his voice tired and slightly angry. "Stiles Residence, this had better be good. It's almost two am."

_"Willard, it's Cathryn. I…I'm calling about Abbie."_

Willard felt the room spin. "Abbie? What about her? Is she alright? !"

_"She's fine. No major damage done-just a few bumps and bruises."_

Willard sank into his chair. "What happened to her? !"

_"Well…she got clipped by a car on her way home from the store tonight. I found her and called for help. She was knocked out for a bit, but she came round about twenty minutes ago."_

Willard gulped. "Where are you?"

_"Divine Mercy."_

"I'll be right there."

He hung up the phone, and raced up the stairs, throwing on a pair of trousers and a shirt, then ran out to his car, mind racing. 'Please let her be alright.'

He pulled into the parking lot of Divine Mercy hospital, noting that Cathryn's red Beetle was parked nearby. He ran into the emergency room, and Cathryn, who had been sitting in the waiting room reading an old magazine, looked up. "Willard!"

"Where is she?"

Cathryn smiled softly at the fear in his eyes. "Room 12, but the nurse won't let me see her."

Willard nodded, impatient. "I want to see her. Now."

Cathryn nodded. "Of course you do. Well, let's see if you have better luck with Nurse Ratched." She led him up to the desk, and the nurse looked at him, a bored expression on her face.

"Yes?"

Willard stared at her. "I'd like to see Annabelle Carsons, please."

The nurse gazed at him indifferently. "Are you family?"

"She doesn't have family. I'm her boyfriend. Please, can I see her?"

The nurse turned her attention to a sheaf of papers in front of her, speaking in a bored tone. "Family only, I'm sorry."

Willard slammed his hand down on the desk, making the nurse jump. "I just told you, you dumb shit-she doesn't have any fucking family! I want to see my girlfriend. Either you let me, or I smash the damn glass out and walk into the ward. It's up to you."

The nurse gawped at him, and he glared at her. "Very well, I suppose you can go see her."

Willard gave her a withering smile. "Thank you so much." He walked into the ward, trembling in nervousness and fear as he approached Room 12. The door was open, and he peeked around the corner. Abbie was lying on the bed, her eyes closed. Willard gulped, and then quietly stepped into the room, sitting next to her. "Abbie?" He said in a hesitant voice, and she opened her eyes and smiled softly at him.

"Hello handsome. What brings you here?"

He gulped. "Cathryn called me. Are…are you alright?"

Abbie nodded, and then winced. "I'm one giant bruise on my left side, and I have a splitting headache, but other than that, I'm in great shape. The car basically just grazed me. You didn't have to come all the way down here this late."

Willard placed his hand on her cheek, stroking softly. "Yes I did." He leaned up, and kissed her, sighing at her taste. She cupped his face and kissed him back, moaning quietly at the taste of him-slightly tangy and spicy-sweet. Willard brushed his tongue across her lips, and she opened her mouth, granting him access. He slipped his tongue inside, and her peach and cloves taste made his head spin. He sat up further, and Abbie moved aside so he could climb into the bed. He lay next to her, kissing her and gently running his hands up and down her spine. This was infinitely better than any dream, he thought. "Abbie..." he spoke her name in a soft voice, and she moaned.

"Willard…" The tone of her voice-soft yet deep at the same time, made Willard's heart speed up. He slipped his hand under her gown, stroking her stomach, and was about to move upwards when the sound of someone clearing their throat made them spring apart.

"Ahem!" Cathryn stood in the doorway, accompanied by the ER Doctor, a man of about fifty with graying hair and a slight stoop in his shoulders. Willard and Abbie grinned guiltily at them, and Abbie found her voice first. "Hi."

Cathryn smiled at them.

The doctor spoke drily. "Miss Carsons, I take it you are feeling better?"

Abbie blushed. "Ummm….uh huh."

The doctor nodded eyes on her chart. "That's good to know. You'll probably be able to leave in a few days, barring any accidents with a food service cart. In the meanwhile, try to be a little discreet."

Abbie blushed deeper. "Right, Doctor." She looked over at Willard. "We need to be more discreet, Willard."

"Gotcha."

The doctor frowned at Willard. "Your name's Willard? Would your last name be Stiles, by any chance?"

Willard nodded, slightly confused. "Yes, why? Do I know you?"

"No, but I knew your father when I was younger. We played golf together."

Willard blinked. "Oh. Well…that's nice."

The doctor nodded. "Yes, it was. Well, Mr. Stiles, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask that you say your goodbyes. Visiting hours are long over, and Miss Carsons needs to rest."

Willard sighed, glaring at him, and then turned to Abbie. "You'll be alright if I leave?" She nodded, and he gave her one final kiss before climbing out of bed. "OK. I'll see you later. Bye."

"Bye."

Cathryn accompanied Willard out to the parking lot. "She's going to recover quite nicely, I think."

Willard nodded. "Yeah. Thank you for calling for help. Cathryn, you weren't the one that?" He left the sentence hanging, and Cathryn shook her head.

"No! Oh God no. I was actually in the neighborhood-on my way back from a rather disastrous date-and I noticed her. Luckily, I had my cell phone with me. I did see the car that clipped her though. It was a light blue Cadillac. I jotted down the number."

Willard's eyes gleamed. "Do you still have it?" Cathryn handed him a scrap of paper, slightly mystified, and Willard read the number, a slightly mad grin on his face. "Thank you."

Cathryn nodded, still a bit confused. "You're welcome, but what did you need the number for?"

Willard grinned. "Never you mind. I've got to go. There are a few things I need to take care of. I'll see you at work tomorrow."

As soon as he arrived home, Willard set to work on his plan. The first step was to make a very important phone call.

"_New York State Department of Motor Vehicles, how may I direct your call?" _

"Uhhh…yes…I was in a slight accident this evening, and unfortunately I forgot to exchange information with the gentleman I hit. I did get his license plate number, and was wondering if perhaps you could give me his name and address so I could write him an apology?"

"_What's the number?" _

"CDF 3247."

"_One moment, please." _

Willard waited ten minutes before the operator came back on the line.

"_That license tag goes to a blue Cadillac Seville registered to a Mr. Robert Steiner Junior. Address is 1247 Southwest Street, Greenwich, New York." _

Willard's eyes widened in anger and he gripped the phone tightly. "Thank you. You've been most helpful." He hung up, fuming, then went into the basement and gathered up his rats, then made his way to the home of Abbie's boss, growing madder with each passing moment.

The house was dark, and Willard noted with glee that the garage door was partly open. He giggled. "Perfect." He opened the bags, setting them down on the driveway. "Out!"

The rats poured out, heading towards the garage door. Willard grinned. "Good. Now, the tires. Tear them up."

He laid himself flat on the driveway, peeking under the door, and giggled in triumph as his rats shredded the Cadillac's tires into useless rubber. "Very good. Now-the seats-shred them! Tear them!" He giggled at the sound of his rats chewing up the leather seats. "Now…into the hood. The engine. The wires. Tear them up." The rats streamed into the hood, and soon finished the task, then came back out at Willard's low whistle. "Good. Now, in!"

The rats climbed into the bags, and Willard grinned, then pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and taped it to the garage door.

'You should never have tried to hurt her. Be glad all that happened was some car damage. I will do much worse should there be a next time.'

He nodded to himself in satisfaction and went home to sleep.

Abbie sat up in the hospital bed, gawping at him. "My boss tried to run me down?"

Willard nodded. "Yeah, and I thought my boss didn't like me."

Abbie snorted. "Oh, Steiner Jr. likes me alright. He's asked me out seven times in this past week."

"You said no, though. Right?"

Abbie laughed. "Of course I said no. The man's a grade A macho asshole, plus he's about as interesting as a dead fish. He's also rather ugly-looks like his face has hit a brick wall a few times."

Willard giggled. "He sounds like a charmer. But still, you refusing to go out with him seems like a poor excuse for him trying to hit you with his car."

Abbie bit her lip. "Well…my exact words may have been a bit more…acerbic." She sighed. "He seemed a bit angry, but I honestly didn't think I made him that mad. But he started it-going on and on and on about his new Caddy with the leather seats and I just got sick of it." She raised her eyes at Willard, who was grinning in triumph. "Willard, what haven't you told me?"

Willard giggled. "The Caddy sustained some damage last night. Damage of the…ratty variety."

Abbie gaped at him. "You didn't!"

"I did."

Abbie fell back against her pillow, laughing. "I…wish…I could have been there! I can just imagine the look on that asshole's face!"

Willard smiled tightly. "He's lucky that's all I did. Abbie, if you had been badly hurt, my rats and I would have….paid him back tenfold."

Abbie scooted closer to him, placing her hand on his cheek, and he immediately placed his hand on hers. "I know, Willard. Could you do something for me?" Willard nodded, and Abbie smiled shyly. "Hold me." She gulped, and then spoke in a voice on the verge of tears. "I….need you."

Willard climbed into the bed, pulling Abbie into his arms, and gently kissed her forehead. "I'm here, Abbie. You're safe."

Abbie sighed, snuggling closer to him. "Willard?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for teaching my boss a lesson. Karma's a bitch, ain't it?"

Willard laughed, running his hand up and down Abbie's arm. "It certainly is. Now, try to get some sleep."

Abbie pouted at him. "But I'm not a bit"-she yawned cavernously, and Willard chuckled.-"Tired."

Willard grinned at her. "Really?" Abbie nodded sleepily, and pressed herself closer.

"Stay until I fall asleep."

"Of course." He kissed her.

Abbie smiled softly, and drifted off to sleep, her arms wrapped around his waist.

Willard watched her sleep, his heart feeling lighter than it ever had before. He softly kissed her forehead, and then spoke quietly, not wanting to wake her.

"I love you, Abbie."

_**Author's Note-I promise, there will be sex soon. Bear with me. *Grins shyly* **_


	5. Chapter 5 All My Grief To Bear

Where the Heart Lies

Chapter Five All My Grief to Bear

Abbie had finally been released from the hospital, and Willard insisted on taking her out to lunch to celebrate her recovery. She agreed, and Willard beamed, starting the car and heading into town. Abbie became a bit suspicious when they drove out towards the park.

"Where are we going, Willard?"

He smiled secretly at her. "It's a surprise, but I promise, you'll like it."

Abbie raised her eyes at him, a bit skeptical, but settled back and enjoyed the scenery.

Willard pulled into the park, noting with satisfaction that it was practically empty-just a few old men feeding the ducks on the pond. He grinned, looking over at Abbie. "We're here."

"Where?"

Willard laughed. "I said I'd take you out to lunch, didn't I? Hang on; I need to get something out of the trunk."

Abbie stood against the car door, grinning as Willard opened the trunk and pulled out a large blue cooler and a blanket. "We're having a picnic."

Willard nodded. "Yep. Come on, I know a great spot." He looped his arm around her waist and led her towards a large oak tree that stood by the pond, spreading the blanket down under the shade. "Sit and I'll serve you."

Abbie sat, her back against the rough bark of the tree, and Willard sat next to her, opening the cooler and examining the contents. "Let's see-we've got a roast beef and Swiss with mayo on rye, or a turkey and Monterey Jack with mayo on wheat. Which would you like?"

"Roast beef, please."

Willard handed her the wrapped sandwich. "Roast beef it is! And you have your choice of Coke or Sprite to drink."

Abbie grinned. "Coke, please." Willard grinned back, handing her a cold can of coke.

"Yes Ma'am. Here you are. Enjoy."

They ate in silence, watching as the ducks floated about on the pond, quacking. Abbie scooted closer to Willard, and he draped his arm over her shoulder, sighing happily. Abbie smiled up at him. "Willard?"

"Yeah?"

She reached up and brushed his lips with her fingers. "You've got crumbs." She started to remove her hand, but he clasped it in his own and gently kissed her fingertips, speaking in a low tone.

"Well, thank you for getting rid of them for me." He turned her hand over, softly kissing each knuckle, and Abbie moaned quietly.

Willard kissed her palm, then the inside of her wrist, flicking his tongue across her pulse point, and Abbie moaned again.

"Willard…"

The sound of her voice galvanized him, and he leaned his head down, pressing his lips to hers, his hands cupping her face as he kissed her slowly and deeply. "Abbie…I love you…"

"I love you, Willard…I love you…"

Willard's heart nearly flew out of his chest at her words. If he had been a rooster, he would have been crowing. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his lap, never breaking their kiss, and Abbie leaned forward, pressing herself against him. He groaned quietly, then slowly and hesitantly began to inch his hand up towards her breasts, giving her a questioning look. "Abbie, may I?"

"Please, Willard," she groaned, and he placed his hand on her right breast, gently stroking and squeezing her nipple through the fabric of her blouse, groaning in desire.

"God Abbie..."

Abbie moaned in ecstasy as his hands roamed over her breasts, stroking and squeezing gently. "Willard….we….can't…here…"

He looked up at her, a slightly contrite expression on his face. "I know. But you make it very hard for me, you know." He bent forward and kissed her throat, speaking in a low growl. "You're so beautiful…so desirable...I want you…"

"I know, baby…I want you too…but….we're kind of….exposed."

Willard sighed against her throat. "You're right. We should move to the other side of the tree. Then we'd be hidden."

Abbie chuckled. "Well, that's not exactly what I meant, but I like the idea."

Willard smirked evilly at her, and was preparing to lead her over to the far side of the tree when her phone went off, startling them both. Abbie groaned in exasperation.

"Damn, I thought I turned it off." She fumbled in her pocket, pressing the phone to her ear. "Hello?" Her face grew dark with anger at the answering reply.

"_Miss Carsons, you did not show up for work yesterday or today. You are officially delinquent in your duties, and if you should continue with this pattern, we will have no choice but to terminate your position." _

"I didn't come to work because I was in the hospital, for God's sake! I got hit by a car. One that was driven by Steiner Junior, by the way-my friend got the license tag and his address. He's lucky that I'm not pressing charges against him!"

"_You did not inform Personnel that you would be out of work for two days, and I'm afraid I have no choice but to dock you two days' pay." _

"You have got to be fucking kidding me. So, let me get this straight. I tell you that my *boss* tried to run me over, and you skip right past all that and tell me I'm out two days' pay because I neglected to tell the Personnel Department that I was going to be in the hospital? ! You are unbelievable!" She stabbed the off button, fuming. "That bitch! I don't believe this. I really, really don't believe this. I'm out two days' pay. I can't afford that! Shit, shit, shit!"

Willard wrapped his arms around her, gently stroking her back as she cried. "I'm sorry, Abbie."

"You don't need to apologize. I'm the one that killed the mood. Stupid phone."

Willard chuckled. "Hey, up until then the picnic was going quite splendidly. But if you want, I'll take you home." Abbie looked at him, and then swiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"I…yeah. Yeah, I need to go home. You…You're not angry with me, are you?"

"Never. We can always try again some other day. Come on, I'll get you home."

They gathered up the empty wrappers and coke cans, tossing them in the trash, and then Willard drove Abbie back to her apartment.

"Willard, I am sorry. Maybe I can make it up to you? I'll break into my piggy bank and buy you a cup of coffee and a donut."

Willard laughed quietly, and then kissed her. "That sounds heavenly, Abbie, but unfortunately I've got to go home and check on Mother. I'll stop by later tonight, okay?"

"Okay. I'll see you later. I love you."

"I love you too, babe. Bye."

He drove back home, smiling, and walked into the house. Immediately, he knew something was wrong. His mother usually started yelling for him the minute he walked in the door, and this time she hadn't. Feeling nervous and more than a little scared, he started to make his way up the stairs when he heard a loud crash coming from the kitchen, and his eyes widened in anger.

"BEN!"

He ran into the kitchen, gasping at the sight. Rats were everywhere-on the counter, in the cupboards, swarming over the floor, table, and each other. Ben sat atop a cupboard, his beady black eyes bright as he watched. Willard came forward, stepping amongst the rats, and suddenly his eyes were riveted to the stairs leading down into the cellar, and the broken body of his mother lying prone on the steps, one bare foot still on the top landing. Rats were swarming over her, and Willard gave a cry of horror and revulsion, grabbing a broom and sweeping them off.

"Off! Off! Down! In the basement! Down!" The rats poured down, and Willard looked up at Ben, fury in his gaze.

"You think you're smart? You think you're clever? You're NOT! Socrates is smart! He knows that they'll have to come and take her away! And then they'll have to take you away! And they'll have to take me away, and I'd never see Abbie again!" He slumped against the wall, tears in his eyes. "I couldn't handle that."

"Sign here, Mr. Stiles, and we'll take her off your hands." The ambulance driver extended a pad, and Willard signed where he indicated, his eyes still red from crying. His mother's body was on the gurney, wrapped in the black body bag, and Willard couldn't help but think of Socrates' mother, lying wrapped in the basement in her own body bag.

The driver nodded. "Thank you, and I'm sorry for your loss." He went out, pushing the gurney in front of him.

Willard sat on the steps, and Socrates came up to him, climbing up his arm and perching on his shoulder. "Hey, Socrates. She was my mother. I loved her, and I miss her. I miss her." He nuzzled Socrates, crying softly, then went into the living room and dialed Abbie's number.

"_Hello?" _

"Abbie? It's Willard." He sniffled, and Abbie's spoke in a concerned voice.

"_What's wrong, babe?" _

He gulped. "My…mother…she's…ummm….she's dead."

"_Oh, no! Willard, babe, I'm so sorry. Do…do you want me to come over? I could grab a bus and come down, if you want." _

"Ummm….no. I….wouldn't really be good company right now. I…just wanted to hear your voice. I'll…I'll be alright now. The…ummm…the service is tomorrow at Haisley Funeral Home."

"_I'll be there, I promise. Are you sure you don't need me to come over?" _

"I'm sure. I promise, I'll be alright."

"_Alright then. I'm really, really sorry, sweetheart. You look after yourself, hear? I'll see you tomorrow." _

"I will. Abbie?"

"_Yeah?" _

"I love you."

"_I love you too, Willard." _

Willard stood in the empty funeral parlor, gazing with tear filled eyes at the casket his mother was lying in. She looked peaceful, and Willard gently touched her cheek, sobbing. "Well…at least you're with Father now. You're finally back with him. I…I have a friend."

He pulled Socrates out of his pocket. "He…he wants to say goodbye. Say goodbye, Socrates." Socrates nuzzled Mrs. Stiles' cheek, and Willard wiped his eyes. "That's good, Socrates. Mom…I've also got a girlfriend. Her name's Abbie. I think you'd like her."

"Willard?"

Willard motioned for Socrates to hide, and then turned, smiling in relief at Abbie. "You came."

She stepped forward, wrapping him in a tight hug. "Of course I came. I promised I would."

Willard clung to her desperately, sobbing and shaking. "She…she's gone. My mother….she's really gone." He sank into a chair, pulling her down with him, and she stroked his back, speaking softly.

"I know, babe. I'm sorry."

"Don't go anywhere, Abbie. Don't ever go anywhere. Don't leave me alone. Please don't leave me alone."

"I won't. I will never leave you, I promise."

"Mr. Stiles?"

Willard and Abbie turned, noticing a black man in his late fifties standing nearby. "I'm Joseph Garter. I represent Montgomery Bank, the trustees of your parents' estate. I've been trying to reach you, but you didn't answer your phone. I was wondering if we could talk."

Willard nodded. "Of course. Abbie, give us a minute?"

"No problem. I'll be outside if you need me."

She kissed his cheek, and then walked outside. Mr. Garter sat down opposite Willard, speaking in a soft tone.

"Willard, I have some news you may not be aware of or prepared for. Your parents had been living on a trust fund they had originally set up for your future. Now, it was intended to be yours upon their passing. However, your father's death left debts that even Mr. Martin's buyout could not completely relieve. In fact, there remains pending litigation on some unsettled debts."

Willard stared at him, uncomprehending. "It's…it's still my house?"

Mr. Garter sighed. "Your mother refinanced the house after your father's death. In fact, we still owe…"

"We? It's MY HOUSE." Willard felt hysteria just below the surface. Mr. Garter smiled disarmingly at him, speaking calmly.

"Yes, of course. You grew up there, it's your home. But it's the bank's house."

"IT'S MY HOUSE!"

"There's no need for a single man to be living in such a large house, Willard. Sell it."

'I'm not single, you idiot.' "WHY DO I HAVE TO PAY FOR THE THINGS MY PARENTS DID?"

"The money can help you start over."

"START OVER? ! I'M ALMOST DONE!" Willard gasped for breath, in the grips of hysteria, and Mr. Garter stood, speaking in a firm tone.

"Now look, Willard, you have no choice!"

"IF I HAVE NO CHOICE, WHY DID YOU EVEN COME HERE? ! WHY DID YOU EVEN BOTHER TELLING ME? ! DO YOU GET OFF ON TELLING PEOPLE THAT THEY HAVE NO CONTROL OVER THEIR LIVES? ! THAT I HAVE NO MONEY, NO HOME, AND IT'S NOT EVEN MY FAULT!" He slumped against the wall, tears streaming down his face.

Garter glared at him. "Willard, this is not the time or the place. Here's my card. Now please, think about it, and contact me."

Willard took the card, his eyes dull. "Thank you." Garter nodded and walked out.

Willard slid down to the floor, weeping, his face buried in his hands. Abbie came forward, sitting in front of him and placed her hand on his arm. "Willard?"

He looked up at her. "Did you hear any of that?"

She sighed in sympathy. "I heard all of it. I'm so sorry, love."

He gave a short bark of laughter. "I'm such a damned loser. I have a shitty job, a shitty life, no hope for my future, and now no home or money. You must really be proud of what a wonderful catch I am."

Abbie lifted his chin, staring deep into his eyes. "I am. Willard, you are a wonderfully sweet man, and also quite handsome to boot. You are a gentleman, and you have never once treated me as anything except a lady. You're shy, but that just adds to your appeal."

"What about the rat thing? You have to admit, Abbie, that's pretty strange."

"I told you, it doesn't bother me. Come on, let's get out of here. We can go to my apartment. You can sleep there."

"Ohhh…uhhh…no…I…"

"Willard, if you refuse I'll drag you there. You shouldn't be alone. You need someone to help bear your grief."

Willard wiped his eyes and smiled at her. "Well, if you insist. Let me get Socrates."

Abbie nodded. "Of course."

Twenty minutes later, Willard pulled his car into the parking lot of Abbie's apartment. "Are you sure it's alright?"

Abbie laughed. "I told you, it's fine. Come on."

Willard exited the car, following Abbie up the stairs.

_**Author's Note-Sorry about the abrupt ending, but if I tried to extend it any more I'd be forcing the chapter. You'll get the rest-and a rating change-in Chapter Six. I promise. **_


	6. Chapter 6  His Sanctuary

Where the Heart Lies

Chapter Six: His Sanctuary

Willard looked around Abbie's apartment, a slight smile on his face. It was small, but she had made it rather cozy and homely. A large battered couch sat against the far left wall, and a small table was set up in the middle of the floor. There was a tall bookshelf on the far right wall, jam packed full of old paperbacks and one or two hardbacks. A battered TV balanced on milk crates was in front of the couch, and a DVD player was perilously balanced on top. A second crate filled with DVDs stood nearby. The kitchen was directly in front of him, and on top of the counter in a large glass jar were the irises he had given her. The walls were a light blue in color, and framed pictures were hung at intervals. Willard examined one-a colored pencil drawing of a great blue heron. "Where'd you get the pictures?"

"Some I inherited from my parents, others I found at garage and estate sales. You can sit down if you like. I'll go fix us a drink."

Willard sat on the couch, surprised at how comfortable it was. The cushions were nice and squashy, and he leaned back with a sigh of relief. Socrates climbed out of his pocket and curled up on the couch, nose twitching at the different smells of the apartment.

Abbie peered into the fridge, muttering under her breath. "I know it's here…I bought it last Tuesday…Aha!" she cried out in triumph and pulled out the six pack of root beer. "Bingo."

She found two glasses, and filled them with ice, then poured the drinks.

Willard opened his eyes when Abbie nudged his foot. "That for me?"

She nodded, handing him the glass. "The finest root beer I could buy. I hope you like it."

Willard laughed. "I thought a drink meant wine…or beer."

Abbie sat next to him. "Well, I don't drink, so you'll have to be happy with root beer."

"Root beer's fine. Socrates, you want to try some?" He dipped his fingers into the root beer and extended them to Socrates. The rat sniffed, and then nibbled Willard's fingers, chittering happily. "You like that, huh? Sweet, isn't it?" Socrates chittered and Abbie laughed.

"I think he likes it."

Willard chuckled, stroking Socrates between the ears. "He's definitely got a sweet tooth. Takes after me in that regard."

Abbie curled her feet under her, and grinned at him. "Oh? You have a sweet tooth? What's your favorite sweet thing?"

Willard gulped his heart racing. "Umm…well…I like chocolate quite a lot….and jelly beans. I love jelly beans." He groaned quietly when Abbie scooted closer to him, her lips inches from his throat.

"Anything else?"

"Uhhh….strawberry ice cream," he squeaked out, shivering in desire at her closeness. Her shirt had come un-tucked from her slacks, and he could see the faintest glimpse of smooth tanned flesh. His hands itched to touch her, and he slowly inched his hand forward, pressing the tips of his fingers against her, whimpering quietly at how soft and smooth she was. He stroked her stomach, tracing patterns with his fingers, and she moaned, shifting herself so he could place his palm flat on her stomach. "Willard?"

"Uh huh?"

Abbie set her glass down then leaned up, whispering in his ear. "Why aren't you kissing me?"

Willard gulped, then set his glass down on the table and pulled Abbie into his arms, kissing her as deeply as he could, groaning to himself at her wonderful taste. She shifted herself so she was sitting astride him, and wrapped her arms around his neck, running her hands up and down his back.

Willard was sure he had died and gone to heaven. Abbie was pressed tightly against him, her gorgeous breasts pressed firmly against his chest and her hands stroking up and down his spine. He groaned, and then gasped in pleasure as Abbie slipped her hands under his shirt, stroking his back.

"Abbie…" He moved his hand upwards, placing it gently on her right breast, stroking and squeezing through the silk of her blouse. "God baby…"

He moved his lips to her throat, kissing and biting her soft flesh, and she gasped loudly, her eyes half shut in desire. "Willard…oh god…"

Her hands came round, pulling off his jacket and tie. She tossed them aside, then smiled at him and began to slowly unbutton his shirt, kissing her way down his chest and stomach, moaning quietly. "So good..."

Willard shut his eyes, moaning as he felt Abbie's lips on his stomach. She gently flicked her tongue across his navel, and then worked her way back up, gently nipping, and he moaned louder.

"Abbie…I…." His eyes flew open as he felt her gently caressing him through his trousers, and he gasped as he felt himself grow hard under her touch. He had never felt anything so blessedly wonderful in his life. They kissed, and Abbie continued stroking him. Willard moaned as desire raced through him.

He had to touch her flesh-had to remove all the barriers between them and make her his. He longed to see her spread out underneath him, longed to press kisses on every bit of her delectable body and make her moan and gasp his name. God, how he wanted her!

He fisted his hands on the bottom of Abbie's blouse, and whispered in her ear. "Lift your arms, Abbie." She obeyed, and he tugged her blouse off, groaning quietly at the sight of her lacey blue bra. Her breasts were straining at the material, and her nipples were hard. Willard groaned, and Abbie took his hands and placed them firmly on her bra, speaking against his throat in a low growl.

"Touch me, Willard. Please."

Willard obeyed, squeezing and stroking, pressing his hands together as fireworks went off in his brain. He slipped his hands around to her back and under her bra clasp, gazing at her in desire.

"Abbie…may I?"

"God yes…" Abbie groaned, and Willard carefully unhooked her bra, pulling it off slowly, his eyes fixed on her.

"Oh Abbie…you are so beautiful…" He ghosted his hand across her bare breast, and she shut her eyes, gasping his name.

"Willard..."

He pressed her against the couch, kissing her throat, then moved down, licking her breasts slowly and lovingly. Abbie moaned, running her hands through his hair.

"God Willard…"

"I love you, Abbie…I want you…"

"Want you Willard…I love you…god I love you…"

Willard kissed her breasts, and Abbie moaned louder. "Willard…please…make love to me…take me to bed…"

Willard felt as though the world had stopped. He was sure that he was dreaming. He could not be this lucky. "Abbie…did you…?"

"Make love to me…please…please Willard…"

He stood up from the couch, and pulled her up into his arms, kissing her with every ounce of passion he could muster. "Where's the bedroom?"

Abbie smiled softly at him and took his hand, leading him into her bedroom. He kicked the door shut and steered her towards the bed, kissing, stroking, and fondling every bit of her he could reach.

Abbie's knees bumped against the bed and she sank into it, pulling Willard down with her, and together they moved so they were stretched out on top of the covers. Willard kissed her throat, then the valley in between her breasts, and Abbie groaned in pleasure.

Willard kissed her chest, and then looked into her eyes, a shy expression on his face. "Abbie…I need to tell you something…I've….ummm…never done this before." He gave her a lopsided smile, and she felt her heart melt. "I…I don't really know what to do."

Abbie kissed him gently on the lips. "I'm new at this too, babe. Why don't we just…do what feels right?"

Willard smiled. "Sounds like an excellent idea." He kissed her, softly at first, then deeper, brushing his tongue against her lips in a silent request. Her lips parted, and he slid his tongue inside, moaning. He slid his hands down her body, pausing to firmly squeeze her breasts, and Abbie arched beneath him, groaning into his mouth.

Willard reached her slacks and slipped his hand inside her waistband, stroking her smooth stomach, and then ventured down further, his fingertips brushing against her soft, damp curls. "Abbie…god baby..." he pressed gently against her, and she gasped.

"Willard…oh god that feels so right…"

He slipped his hand out of her waistband, and she whimpered, gazing at him reproachfully. "Willard..." She gasped in pleasure as he removed her slacks, tossing them aside, leaving her clad only in a pair of lacey blue panties.

Willard gulped in desire as his eyes roamed up and down Abbie's body, from her large, firm breasts, down to her smooth stomach and long, flawlessly smooth legs, and finally resting on the dark triangle between her thighs. "God, Abbie, you are so beautiful." He kissed her chest, and then grew bolder, gently nipping her, and she growled his name.

He made his way down her body, then gently spread her legs apart and kissed her inner thigh, the flesh warm under his lips. "Does this feel right, love?" She groaned in response, and he smiled. "I'll take that to mean yes."

The smell of her was intoxicating, and Willard removed her panties as quickly as he could, longing to taste her. "Abbie…may I?"

"Yes…" Her voice was dark with lust, and Willard smiled, then slowly flicked the tip of his tongue across her wet slit, moaning. She was absolutely delicious, and he wanted more. He licked again, pressing his tongue further into her damp folds, eliciting a soft cry from her.

"God baby!"

He placed his fingers against her entrance, and then slowly and gently slipped one inside, then another, his tongue still moving over every inch of her. Then his tongue and fingers brushed against the hard nub of her clit, and Abbie arched off the bed and shouted his name to the heavens.

"GOD WILLARD!"

He felt her walls starting to contract, and slowly increased his movements, working his tongue and fingers in tandem until she was shaking and sobbing in pleasure. She gripped the bed sheets, her voice rising and falling as she whimpered, gasped and shouted his name.

"Willard….god baby…that feels so…fucking….good…I…I'm going to….I need to come…I…OH MY GOOODDD!" She screamed in joy as orgasm after orgasm raced through her, leaving her breathless and trembling. "God baby you learn fast…"

Willard swallowed her juices, and then swiftly made his way up her body, kissing her deeply. "I do, and now it's time for the best lesson of all."

Abbie gulped in desire as she watched him remove his pants, groaning quietly as his erection was revealed to her gaze. He was quite large, and she felt a surge of heat between her legs as she gazed at him. She reached forward and gently caressed him, moaning as his erection throbbed in her fingers. Willard shut his eyes, moaning in pleasure, and then opened them when Abbie hesitantly spoke his name.

"Willard? Will…will you fit inside me?"

He chuckled, and then kissed her. "I'm sure I will. But, there is one way we could find out."

He gently spread her thighs apart, placed the tip of his erection against her, and then gazed at her, eyes dark with lust and desire. "Abbie, I love you…"

He slowly slid inside her, moaning at her warm wetness. He had never imagined that anything could feel this wonderful, and he thanked God that this gorgeous goddess had run into him.

He felt himself pressed against her barrier, and paused, speaking softly in her ear. "Abbie, if I hurt you, tell me and I'll stop." She whimpered in answer, and he smiled, and then began to slowly move forward, and she gave a soft cry of pain. "Abbie, am I hurting you?"

"A little…but it feels so good…" She gazed at him. "Just…push it in all the way."

Willard obeyed; breaking through her barrier in one hard and swift thrust, and Abbie clutched his back and shouted his name. The pain, which at first had been nearly all-encompassing, was swiftly receding to be replaced by the most wonderful pleasure she had ever experienced in her life. She wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him deeper, and shouted in pleasure as he began to move inside her, hesitant at first, but then stronger and surer.

At first, they moved against each other, but it wasn't long before they figured out the rhythm, and they gasped, moaned, and cried as they moved in unison, slowly building to a climax.

Willard felt Abbie's walls starting to contract around him, and he felt his own orgasm cresting. "God….Abbie….I'm ready to….I…ABBIE!" He roared her name to the heavens as he came, spilling his seed inside her, trembling and shaking from the force of his orgasm.

A few moments later, Abbie reached her peak, shouting his name as her body shook and trembled from multiple orgasms. "OH MY GOD WILLARD!"

Willard collapsed against her, panting heavily, and Abbie fell back against the pillow, breathless, running her fingers through his sweat-damp hair. "That was…"

He nodded, still panting. "Yeah…" He gently withdrew from her, feeling her body tremble, and she whimpered silently.

Willard shifted himself so his head was resting on Abbie's breasts, and she wrapped her arms around him, sighing happily. "I love you, Willard."

"I love you too, my Abbie."

He watched as she drifted off to sleep, smiling to himself. His Abbie. His lover. His goddess.

His sanctuary.


	7. Chapter 7 Changing Luck

Where the Heart Lies

Chapter Seven: Changing Luck

Willard slowly opened his eyes, feeling more relaxed and peaceful than he ever had before. Abbie was pressed against him, her arms around his waist and her legs tangled with his. He softly kissed her shoulder, and she sighed in contentment, turning onto her back to give him a sleepy smile. "Morning."

"Good morning, Abbie." Willard kissed her lips, sighing quietly. "Did you sleep well?"

She nodded, stroking his arm. "Wonderfully, you?"

"Marvelously, better than I ever have, in fact. But right now..."he kissed her throat, and then began to move down her body. When he reached her stomach, he paused, speaking in a low voice. "I've got to tell you something…Abbie…my love…my girl…I'm starving."

Abbie blinked at him in surprise and Willard looked up and grinned at her. "What's for breakfast?" He laughed as she stuck her tongue out at him. "I had plenty of that last night, baby. I want some real food. OW!" He winced when she smacked his shoulder.

Abbie glared at him. "Real food, huh? Well, I suppose I could make something. But you have to do something for me first."

"Anything, love."

She smiled coyly at him. "Let me up. I'm kind of pinned by your lovely body. It's a rather nice feeling, but if you want me to make breakfast, you're going to have to move."

"I knew there'd be a catch," Willard said in mock disappointment. Abbie nudged him, and he rolled off her, allowing her to slip out of bed and retrieve her panties from the floor and a robe from her closet. "So, what are you going to make for breakfast?"

Abbie glared at him, her hands on her hips, and then tossed him his pants. "I'll make you into Rat King Soup if you don't get your butt out of bed and help me." Willard pouted at her, and she merely rolled her eyes at him. "You want breakfast, you have to help. So come on, out!"

"You're very forceful, baby. But if you really need my help, I'd be glad to oblige." He pulled on his pants, and they walked into the kitchen. Socrates was standing on the counter, his nose twitching as he gazed questioningly at his master. Willard chuckled, extending his hand so Socrates could run up onto his bare shoulder. "Morning, Socrates. We didn't startle you too much last night, did we?" Socrates nuzzled him, and Willard laughed. "That's good. You hungry, Socrates?" The rat chittered, and Willard looked at Abbie. "He's hungry."

"Is he?" Abbie stroked Socrates' fur. "Well, let's see what I can do about that." She knelt in front of the fridge, peering into the depths, and Willard groaned as her long bare legs were revealed to his gaze. Abbie looked over her shoulder, a wicked smile on her face. "Something distracting you, Willard?"

He smiled back just as wickedly. "Yep. Those gorgeous legs of yours. They're quite mouth-watering, babe."

Abbie chuckled, and then straightened up, holding a carton of eggs in her hand. She shut the fridge and placed the eggs on the counter, then draped her arms around Willard's shoulders. "So you're a leg man, huh?"

He laughed, and kissed her. "When it comes to you? I love everything. But the legs are definitely up there."

Abbie giggled. "I'm flattered." She carefully disentangled herself. "How do you want your eggs?"

"Scrambled, please." Willard leaned against the counter, watching as Abbie prepared the eggs. "You said you needed my help?"

Abbie nodded, and then pointed to a cupboard above his head. "Could you get down the salt and pepper, please? It's pretty far back; I can't reach it without standing on my tiptoes."

Willard grinned, crossing his arms in front of him. "I'd like to see that."

Abbie rolled her eyes heavenward. "Willard, just get the salt and pepper down."

"Very well, but I think it's a shame that you're depriving your lover of this wonderful opportunity to drool over you."

"I know, and I'm devastated by it. Get the damn spices down."

Willard retrieved the salt and pepper and placed them next to her. "Salt and pepper as you requested, lover."

Abbie kissed him. "Thank you so much. Now, go sit and I'll scramble the eggs. How do you want them scrambled?"

"A bit runny."

Abbie finished scrambling the eggs, dividing them into three portions-two for her and Willard, and a rat size portion for Socrates. She made sure to put extra cheese on his portion.

Socrates sniffed the eggs, then wriggled happily and began eating. Willard laughed, watching him. "He likes that. Thanks for making him a portion."

Abbie grinned, digging into her eggs. "Well, he did look hungry. Besides, I like him. He's a good friend to you, isn't he?"

Willard nodded. "He is. You and he are the only friends I've ever had. If anything happened to either of you, I don't know what I'd do."

Abbie smiled softly. "What about Cathryn?"

Willard blinked at her, confused. "What about Cathryn?"

"Isn't she your friend?"

Willard bit his lip. "Well…I do get along with her, but I'm not as comfortable around her as I am around you. She is a hell of a lot nicer than the other people I work with, but I sometimes wonder if she just is nice to me because she feels sorry for me."

Abbie smiled at him in understanding. "I never felt sorry for you, Willard, and I never will."

"Good, because that's one thing I always hated. I had enough trouble feeling sorry for myself on my own; I didn't need other people to pick up the slack for me."

Abbie gently squeezed his hand, and then changed the subject. "Are you going to work today?"

He nodded his head. "Yes, but first I've got some things I need to do at the…the cemetery."

Abbie sighed. "At least you can be a bit late this time. Boss bastard will have my hide if I don't show up nine on the dot, and I want to give you something before I leave."

She went into the bedroom, emerging a few moments later dressed and with a key in her hand. "This is a spare to the apartment. You can use it whenever you want." She pressed it into his hand, and he smiled gratefully at her.

"Thank you. I promise not to lose it. Do you want me to give you a ride to work?"

Abbie grinned at him. "Would you?" He nodded, and she beamed wider. "Thanks."

"No problem. Give me a few moments to get dressed, and I'll take you. Keep an eye on Socrates, will you?"

"Of course." Abbie gently picked up Socrates, stroking him, and he nuzzled her, chittering softly. "Good boy."

Thirty minutes later, Willard pulled up in front of the dull grey brick building that housed Steiner and Sons Law Firm. They got out together, and Abbie kissed his cheek and was about to head inside when she noticed someone walking out towards the parking lot. She groaned in exasperation as she recognized the person. "Shit. It's Junior."

Willard watched him approach, his face grim, and spoke in a low voice. "That's the guy that tried to run you down?" Abbie nodded in disgust, and Willard smirked. "You didn't do him justice, babe. He's not ugly, he's a Neanderthal."

Abbie sputtered in laughter, and Willard grinned at her. Abbie chuckled, and then groaned in annoyance. "Great. He's coming over here." Sure enough, the younger Steiner was heading right for them, a leer on his face. He stood in front of Abbie, completely ignoring Willard.

"Hello, Annabelle. How are you feeling today?"

Abbie glared at him. "Fine, thank you. Could you kindly get the hell out of my way? I'd like to get started on my job." She glared at him when he placed his hand on her arm. "I'll give you three seconds to let go."

Robert Jr. leered at her. "And if I don't? What will you do about it, Annabelle?" He grunted in surprise when he felt someone grab his left arm, slamming him against the car door.

Willard glared at him. "I do believe she told you to let go of her. Now, can you give me a good reason why you're harassing my girlfriend?"

Steiner Jr. looked from Willard to Abbie then back to Willard, disbelief on his face. "Your girlfriend? Boy, Annabelle must really be slumming if she would choose a ratty looking character like you over me."

Abbie snorted. "No, see I actually have taste. That's why I chose Willard over you."

Robert laughed. "Oh please, Annabelle. What on earth could this little milquetoast have that I don't?" Abbie gazed coolly at him, speaking in a dry voice.

"You want it alphabetically? He's bright, clever, compassionate, funny, gentle, handsome, interesting, kind, sexy as all hell, and wonderful. Whereas you are bland, boring, colorless, dull, drab, ugly as sin, idiotic, and a misogynistic asshole with such an inflated sense of your libido and sexual conquests that you try to run down a woman when she rejects your thinly veiled invite to fuck in the back seat of your Caddy! Shall I go on, or have you gotten the message?"

Steiner gawped at her in shock, his mouth working in silent astonishment. Finally he found his voice. "You…you can't talk to me that way! I'll….I'll…"

"You'll what? Run and tell Daddy? I'm sure he'd be thrilled to know that you tried to run me over. I could have you bought up on attempted murder. Would you care for that? I'm sure that would be a great topic of discussion at the next Board meeting. 'Heir to Steiner Firm charged with attempted murder.' You'd be the talk of the town!"

Steiner snorted. "You just try it, you bitch. You forget that I'm a lawyer."

Abbie laughed. "No, your Daddy is the lawyer. You're just a glorified ambulance chaser and you should be sacked. Now, if you'll kindly step aside, I'd like to get to work and explain to your daddy that I'm late because you tried to harass me-again." She shoved past him, heading into the building, and then turned. "Willard, I'll see you later, babe. Robert-kindly piss off and die."

Robert gazed contemptuously at Willard, who was grinning. "I bet by next week I'll have her so besotted with me that she won't even remember your name."

Willard's grin faded and he glared at Steiner so piercingly that the other man took two steps back. "You bother her again, and you will regret it, I promise. Good day to you." He left, and Steiner Jr. turned and walked back into the building, a gobsmacked look on his face.

Abbie sat in front of her computer, smiling quietly to herself as she listened to the elder Steiner berate his son. She had gone straight into his office and told him everything, and Mr. Steiner had promised to take care of it. "Miss Carsons, I know you see me as a despot, and we might have our differences, but the plain truth is, you are one of the finest assistants that have ever worked here, and I'd hate for you to have to be in a negative work environment because of my idiot son. I'll talk to him, I promise." Abbie had thanked him, and now she giggled to herself as snatches of conversation came drifting through the open door of Steiner's office.

"She has made it perfectly clear that she is not interested, and you are lucky that she hasn't bought you up on charges!"

"But…"

"She is a fine assistant, and I will not have her leave because of you, is that clear?"

"But…"

"Stop butting in! Now, you are to leave Miss Carsons alone, is that clear?"

"But Dad…"

"Is that clear? !"

"Yes."

Mr. Steiner smiled. "Good. Now, get back to work."

Abbie bit her lip to keep from laughing as Robert stalked past her, his face red from embarrassment.

Willard stood in front of his mother's grave, a bouquet of roses clutched in his hand. He knelt in front of the headstone, gently tracing the inscription.

Elizabeth Stiles

Beloved Mother

1925-2003

Angels Watch Over Her

He placed the roses on the grave. "Hi Mom. I hope you've found Father up there. I miss you, you know. I'm sorry I wasn't a better son to you." He paused, and then smiled to himself. "I've found someone that I love very much. I wish you could have met her. But I know that you'd be proud of me for finally falling in love. Be at peace, Mom. I love you."

Abbie stood in front of Stiles and Martin Manufacturing, a small bag clutched in her hand and a wicked grin on her face. She pulled out her cell and dialed Cathryn's number.

"_Hello, this is Cathryn speaking." _

"Cathryn? It's Abbie. Is Willard there?"

"_Yes, why?" _

"Is he at his desk?"

"_No, he's in the storeroom getting some more purchase orders, why?" _

"Good, stall him for about five minutes."

"_Why…"_ Cathryn sighed as Abbie ended the call, and then headed for the storeroom.

"Willard? You in here? Willard?"

She jumped as Willard rounded the corner. "Oh, you are here. Ummm…how are you?"

Willard stared at her. "I'm fine, Cathryn. Why?"

"How'd…how'd everything go at the cemetery?"

Willard turned to her, speaking curtly. "Fine."

Cathryn nodded. "That's good…umm…have you found the purchase orders yet?"

"No."

"Well, should I help?"

"If you want. Do you know what they look like?"

Cathryn nodded, and began to help Willard look. It wasn't long before they located the purchase orders, and Willard sighed in relief. "Thanks Cat. Sorry I was so brusque." Cathryn smiled at him in understanding.

"Not a problem."

Willard stepped out of the storeroom, and his eyes widened happily. Abbie was sitting in his chair, her feet propped up on his desk and her hands behind her head. "Abbie! What…what brings you here?"

She grinned at him and pointed to a small bag in the center of his desk. "That."

He grinned and walked over to her, gently nudging her feet. "Get your feet off my desk, babe." Abbie pouted, but obeyed, and Willard sat on his desk and opened the bag, grinning widely at the contents.

"Jelly beans! Thank you!" He popped one into his mouth, beaming. "This is great! Want one?" Abbie held out her hand, and Willard pouted at her. "Uh -uh. Open your mouth." She frowned at him, and he grinned. "Mouth. Open." She huffed, but opened her mouth, and Willard selected a jellybean and popped it into her mouth. "What flavor was that?"

"Watermelon, I think. What flavor did you get?"

"Strawberry." He grinned at her. "My favorite."

Abbie sat next to him. "Well, you said you loved jelly beans, so I thought I'd be nice and get you some. Sorry I couldn't get more, but a small bag was all I could afford."

Willard grinned. "A small bag is plenty, sweetheart." He leaned over and kissed her cheek, then whispered in her ear. "Make it up to me later." Abbie giggled, nodding.

"I promise. Babe, enjoy the jelly beans. I've got to be returning to work. I'll see you tonight?" Willard nodded, and Abbie grinned. "Great." She gave him a chaste kiss then hopped off his desk. "Bye, love."

"Bye." Willard watched her leave, and then slid into his chair, sighing happily.

Cathryn sat down, grinning at him. "You look happy."

Willard giggled. "I got jelly beans!" He extended the bag to Cathryn. "Want one?"

"Sure." She took one, grinning. "Root beer. Good flavor."

Willard smiled to himself, glad that his luck had finally started to change.


	8. Chapter 8 Anniversaries and Questions

Where the Heart Lies

Chapter Eight Anniversaries and Questions

Abbie was exhausted by the time she finished work, and as she rode the bus home her only thought was how badly she wanted to stagger into her apartment and sleep for a month. She got home, fell onto her couch with a cry of relief, and then pulled out her phone, dialing Willard's number.

Willard was lounging in the living room watching Socrates run around when his phone rang. He sighed, and answered it.

"Willard Stiles speaking."

"_Hey, it's me." _

"Hey baby. You sound exhausted."

Abbie nodded, knowing he couldn't see her. _"I am. I had to type up a thirty page brief today." _

Willard whistled in sympathy. "Ouch. Are you trying to tell me you don't want me to come over?"

"_No, you can still come over; just don't expect me to be very energetic." _

Willard laughed. "That's alright. You go home and get some sleep; I'll come over tomorrow night. I prefer you awake and alert. See you later, love."

"_Yeah, see you. I love you." _

"I love you too."

Willard ended the call, leaning back with a sigh, and Socrates ran up his arm to perch on his shoulder, nuzzling his neck. "You concerned about me, Socrates?" The rat stared at him, and Willard chuckled, scratching him between the ears. "Or are you just disappointed that you won't get to see Abbie tonight?" Socrates chittered, and Willard sighed. "Yeah, I'm disappointed too, but she sounded done in on the phone. We'll see her tomorrow, I'm sure." Socrates chittered again, and Willard grinned. "That's a good idea."

He grinned and headed for the kitchen, ready to put his plan into action. 'I hope she appreciates this.'

Abbie was stretched out on her couch asleep when three firm knocks sounded at her front door, startling her into wakefulness. She rolled off the couch, landing on the carpet with a grunt of surprise, and stomped towards the door, muttering angrily under her breath. "Wake me up from a lovely nap, this had better be good." She yanked the door open, staring in shock at Willard. He was grinning sheepishly at her, and Abbie noticed he had a large bag balanced in his arms.

"Hey babe. Did I wake you up?" Abbie just glared at him, and he gulped. "I guess that's a yes. Can I at least explain myself before you throw me down the stairs?" Abbie nodded, still glaring, and Willard took a breath. "I got to thinking, you sounded so done in on the phone, and you're probably too tired to make yourself a decent meal, and I had a bunch of food in my house, so I umm…I brought you something to eat." He shoved the bag into her hands and waited nervously, his hands in his pockets.

Abbie blinked at him, and then peered into the bag. Inside was a delicious looking roast, a salad, two large baked potatoes, and-best of all- chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. "Willard, did you…make all this?"

He nodded. "All except the cake. I got that at the bakery near here. The roast needs warming up. I made it this morning." He laughed at her gobsmacked expression. "What? You surprised I can cook?" Abbie blushed, and he smiled. Abbie smiled back, and then stepped aside.

"Willard, you had better come in. I don't know if I could eat this all by myself."

Willard grinned at her and stepped into the apartment, and Abbie set the bag on the counter, pulling out the food. She popped the roast and potatoes in the oven and was about to place the cake on the counter when Willard's arms wrapped around her waist. He placed his cheek against hers and swayed briefly, humming. Abbie giggled. "What's got you so happy?"

He chuckled, kissing her jaw. "Mmmm…you taste like peaches. But to answer your question, you do. You've got me happy. I know what a lucky man I am to have found you. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me."

Abbie turned in his arms, gazing into his eyes, which were soft with love. "Willard, I…" she blinked when Willard placed his fingers on her lips, giving her a mock scolding look.

"I'm not done, Abbie. You are the most amazing, beautiful, crazy, intelligent, and caring person I have ever met, and you have the most adorably crooked grin." Abbie blushed, and Willard smiled, and then softly kissed her. "I love you, Annabelle Carsons."

Abbie kissed him back. "I love you too, Willard Stiles."

The kiss soon deepened, and Abbie felt herself responding to Willard's touch. He slid his hand up her leg, gently squeezing, and she groaned into his mouth, pressing firmly against him with a low moan of eager surrender. "Willard…"

He pulled out of the kiss, face slightly flushed. "The kitchen isn't really the best place to be doing this. Couch?" Abbie nodded, and Willard led her over to the couch, pulling her down and on top of him. "Better?"

"Much. Now, do shut up and kiss me senseless."

Willard obeyed happily, clutching Abbie to him and kissing her as fiercely and passionately as he could, running his hands up and down her back-and gradually he noticed something quite unusual. "Abbie….umm…are you wearing anything under your shirt?"

She grinned wickedly at him and he growled, kissing her deeply and clutching the bottom of her shirt in his hands, ready to pull it off. Abbie slid her hands down his arms and held his hands still. "We still haven't eaten, Willard. I don't know about you, but I'm starving. You'll just have to control yourself until after dinner."

Willard pouted. "Spoilsport. But I guess I see it your way. It would be a damn shame to burn the roast."

Abbie giggled and kissed him. "That it would be."

Willard sighed, running his hand up and down her arm. "You don't make it easy, you know. Your nearness is quite intoxicating to me." He kissed her throat, moaning softly. "You taste so good…" Abbie groaned, tilting her head to give him better access.

Willard kissed her, his tongue flicking across her neck as his hands slid up her shirt to cup her firm breasts. He gently flicked her nipples with his thumbs, moaning quietly as he felt them harden beneath his touch. "Abbie…god baby you feel so damned good…"

Abbie whimpered in pleasure as Willard's hands roved over her breasts, gently and firmly squeezing and stroking. "Willard…" She shifted herself so her breasts were pressed more fully into his hands, and shut her eyes, sighing happily. "Mmmm…."

There was a loud buzz that seemed to pierce the very air of the apartment. Willard gave a yelp of shock at the noise, his eyes wide. "What the hell?"

Abbie began laughing. "It's….it's the kitchen timer. The roast is done."

Willard pouted at her and sighed. "I suppose this means we're going to have to get up?" Abbie nodded, still chuckling, and Willard smirked at her. "Well, then you're going to have to find a way to cool me down." He took her hand, placing it gently on the crotch of his trousers, and she gasped at how hard he was. Willard gazed at her. "Unless you want me to take you on the table, you'd better defuse the situation quick."

Abbie grinned wickedly. "Imagine Mrs. Leach in a bikini."

Willard blinked at her in shock and disgust, his mouth working silently. "Imagine…OH GOD that's disgusting! I think you might have turned me off to sex permanently!"

Abbie scoffed at him. "Bullshit."

He chuckled. "Yeah, but still-that's a pretty cringe worthy image. Now, let's go eat, shall we?" He nudged Abbie, and she rolled off him, heading towards the kitchen to retrieve the roast and potatoes from the oven. The delicious smell filled the apartment, and Willard inhaled deeply, mouth watering. Socrates, who was perched on the top of the couch, looked towards the kitchen, an eager expression on his face, and chittered happily. "Smells good, hey Socrates?"

"Willard, come carve this hunk of meat, please! "Abbie called from the kitchen. Willard walked into the kitchen, giving her a salute.

"Aye- Aye Ma'am. Just show me where you keep your carving knife, and I'll get right on it."

Abbie pointed to a nearby drawer. "It's in there. It should be sharp, I hardly ever use it."

Willard found the knife and began to carve the roast. The knife was a good one-nice and sharp, and the roast was tender and full of juices. He speared a piece of it on the tip of his knife and popped it into his mouth, eyes narrowing in pleasure. "Damn, that's good."

Abbie got down two plates, placed them on the counter, then walked over to him and peeked over his shoulder, mouth watering. "Are you done yet? I'm starving!"

He chuckled, pointing towards the table. "Almost. Go on and sit and I'll bring you a plate." She pouted, and he gave her a mock glare. "Go on."

Abbie sat, stomach growling in anticipation and hunger. Willard prepped both their plates, placing hers in front of her with a flourish and a grin. "Your dinner, my dear. I hope you enjoy it."

Abbie took a bite, and her eyes widened happily. "Wow. You're a damn good cook, babe. But you honestly didn't have to go to all this trouble. I would have been happy with just a sandwich from the Deli downtown."

Willard grinned. "Actually, I did have to go to all this trouble. Do you know what today is?"

Abbie thought for a moment. "Tuesday, why?"

Willard smiled wider. "We met three weeks ago today. I figured that deserved a bit of celebration."

Abbie laughed. "That's right, we did. If you go all out for our three week anniversary, I'd love to see what you do for the other ones."

Willard smiled in happy shock at her. "The other ones? How many are we going to have?"

Abbie looked thoughtful, and then smiled at him. "As many as we can, for as long as we can. How does that sound?"

Willard grasped her hand, kissing the knuckles. "Perfect." He turned her hand, kissing the palm, and she shut her eyes, sighing softly.

"Willard…"

"I need you, Abbie." He gazed at her, his eyes blazing, and she shuddered in eager anticipation. Willard kissed the inside of her wrist, and then slowly moved up her arm, nipping gently. "I need you so damn badly, baby." Abbie moaned in surrender, and Willard groaned happily.

He stood, pulling her to her feet and into a deep kiss. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing eagerly against his firm body, wriggling in pleasure as she felt his erection digging into her thigh. Willard growled and steered her towards the bedroom, his hands roving over every inch of her.

They reached her bedroom, and Willard kicked the door shut, then spun around and pinned her against the wall, kissing and biting her throat. Abbie growled his name, wrapping her legs around his waist. "Willard…."

"I love you so damn much, Abbie. You are so intoxicating…so beautiful…I love you…"

Abbie moaned, her hands dexterously unbuttoning his shirt. He helped her remove it, tossing it in a corner and molding his body against hers.

He carried her over to the bed, laying her gently on it, and then moved so he was lying on top of her. "Can I take your shirt off now?"

Abbie chuckled at his eager smile and raised her hands over her head. Willard grinned like a schoolboy and pulled off her shirt, gulping quietly. "God, you get more gorgeous every time I see you."

"Are you talking to me or my breasts?" Abbie asked drily.

Willard burst out laughing. "I think maybe both in this case. You are gorgeous, and you also have quite lovely breasts." Abbie chuckled.

"I thought you were a leg man." She gasped as Willard began stroking her leg through her slacks.

"Oh, those are quite lovely as well; believe me-especially when they're bare." He gave her a mock glare. "You are wearing far too many clothes."

"Slacks and underwear is too many?"

He nodded. "Much too many." She smirked at him.

"Well, we'd better do something about that, hadn't we?"

Willard chuckled, kissing her. "Yes, we had."

They undressed each other, kissing and caressing every bit of bare skin they could reach. Even though it was only their second night together as lovers, they were both already attuned to each other, knowing just where to kiss and touch in order to send their partner to the heights of pleasure.

Their lovemaking was slow, intense, and passionate, and by the time it was over Abbie had lost count of how many times she climaxed, and she was covered in sweat and panting. "God Willard…that was amazing."

He sighed against her throat, breathless. "Yeah. Abbie?"

"Hmmm?"

"Marry me."

Abbie gawped at him, and then spoke in a low whisper. "What did you say?"

He gazed seriously at her. "Annabelle Carsons, will you marry me?" She opened her mouth, and he gently placed his fingers on her lips. "I love you. I can't guarantee we'd have a perfect marriage or hell, even a perfect engagement. I can't promise you the moon, the stars, or that we'll live in the lap of luxury all our days. What I can promise is that I will always be yours, no matter what."

"Yes."

Willard blinked at her. "Yes what?"

She lightly smacked his shoulder. "What do you think, silly? Yes, I'll marry you."

Willard beamed wider than he ever had before, and then pulled her into a passionate kiss. "I was hoping that would be the answer." He sighed. "I…I don't have a ring to give you right now, but I promise-you'll get one, and it will be a beauty." Abbie smiled softly at him, stroking his cheek.

"It doesn't have to be, love. I'll be happy with anything you pick out for me."

Willard kissed her gently. "I love you."

"I love you too."

He pulled her into his arms, and she snuggled up against him, sighing. He stroked her back, sending her to sleep, a small smile on her beautiful features.

'I have a fiancé.' He smiled softly at the thought.

His life was going wonderfully.

_**Author's Note-Yay, I'm finally finished with this chapter! My muse kept falling asleep on me. I think it was trying to make me stall so I wouldn't have to write Chapter Nine-which will have a very sad moment in it. **_


	9. Chapter 9 Death and Despair

Where the Heart Lies

Chapter Nine: Death and Despair

_**Author's Note-This is going to be a very angst filled and sad chapter. Have tissues on hand. (And I apologize for the clichéd title.) Also, it's going to be a bit shorter than the others-Mr. Martin's death will be in the next chapter, I promise. **_

Willard was feeling as if he could conquer the world. Abbie had agreed to marry him, and already he was beginning to plot and plan their wedding in his head.

They had the chocolate cake for breakfast to celebrate the event, and after Willard drove Abbie to work. "I'll see you tonight, love. Have a good day."

"You too."

Willard swung by his house to pick up his briefcase, humming to himself. "Time to go back to work, Socrates." He opened his briefcase and jumped back in surprise. Ben was sitting in it, staring up at him. "Ben. Out." Ben didn't budge, and Willard took a breath.

Socrates ran down his arm to sit next to Ben, and Willard sighed. "Okay, Ben-but only because Socrates says it's okay."

After he had safely hidden them in the storeroom, he sat at his desk, his mind still on rings and wedding plans, and at first he didn't notice the envelope sitting on his mouse pad. When he finally focused on it, his first thought was confusion. It was a plain white envelope, his name printed neatly on the front. Wondering what it could be, he opened it-and his jaw dropped in shock at the contents. He reread it three times, certain he had missed something. Cathryn watched him, concerned. "Willard?"

He shook himself and handed her the letter. "Am I reading this correctly?"

She took the letter, reading it aloud. "Mr. Stiles, it is our regret to inform you that your position here has been terminated. Enclosed find two weeks' severance pay. Your service is appreciated. Frank Martin." She handed the letter back to him, a sad expression on her face. "He's firing you. But…I thought he couldn't fire you."

Willard's head snapped up and he glared at Mr. Martin's door, fuming, then stood and stomped towards his office, shaking in anger. Cathryn turned in her chair, concerned. "Willard!" She fell silent as he stomped into Mr. Martin's office.

Willard wrenched the door open, ready to give Mr. Martin a blistering tongue lashing, and was stopped in his tracks by his boss speaking first.

"This has all been a huge misunderstanding. Tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to take you to the Jets-Dolphins game, how's that sound?"

Willard reeled in confusion. "What ? !"

Martin turned, irritated at being interrupted in his phone call, and mouthed 'Shut up and sit down.' Willard sat, his stomach in knots and his head starting to throb.

Mrs. Leach looked up from the invoice she was filling out. "It feels like this office could use a little holiday cheer. Cathryn, go in the storeroom and dig out the Christmas decorations. The key's in Willard's desk, I think."

Martin sat at his desk, leaning back in his chair. "I'll see you later." He ended the call, and stared at Willard in contempt. "Well?"

"How could you? !"

Martin snorted. "What part of 'you're fired' did you not understand?"

"My Father!"

"Is dead! Been dead. And now your Momma's dead too."

Willard gasped for breath. "He started this company! It's my family's company!"

Martin sat up straight, glaring at him. "No. It's my company. It's been my company, and I don't want you around it any more! Why are you still here anyway? You hate it here. I hate you being here. You'd be much happier if you left, so why in the hell won't you leave?"

"The terms of your purchase compact-tract they clearly state that you are not allowed to sell…"

Martin shrugged. "Sue me."

"WHAT? !"

"Sue me. Go down to the courthouse, hire yourself a $250 dollar an hour lawyer, and sue me. My $400 an hour lawyer will tie it up in the Courts till I die. So what, ten, fifteen, twenty years from now-you'll win."

"You know I cannot afford that! You know that!"

Martin snorted at him. "No, really? If you need money so badly, why don't you make me an offer on the house?" Willard glared at him. "Don't give me that look, Willard. I buy the house. You have money. You can go out and buy yourself a good clean used car, move far away, get yourself a good job, a girlfriend. Hell, you'll be so happy you won't want to sue me."

Willard took a breath, trying to stay calm. "I already have a girlfriend, Mr. Martin. That's why I need this job. I'm planning on marrying her soon, and I want to be able to afford a decent wedding."

Martin sighed. "Well, then I guess you're up shit creek. You wanna give your girl a nice wedding? I'm sure you could use the money you get from me for your house to buy her a nice enough dress."

Cathryn had located the keys. She looked towards the secretary. "Mrs. Leach? I found the keys. But, you can dig out your own holiday cheer then you can shove it up your ass with a big Ho Ho Ho. I quit." She threw the keys at Mrs. Leach, who dodged out of the way, then grabbed her coat from the hook and walked out, relieved.

Willard fumed, his body trembling and Martin stared coolly at him. Willard stood up, still fuming, and slammed himself against the office door over and over again. Martin winced. Finally, Willard slumped, completely done in, and began sobbing.

"Alright! I'll sell you the house! But please, please, let me keep my job! Please."

Martin stared at him, and was considering his answer, when a loud shriek sounded. Willard looked around, stunned and scared. Martin stood, heading for the door. "What the hell?"

Willard followed, a sick feeling forming in the pit of his stomach as Mr. Martin headed to the storeroom. Mrs. Leach was standing at the door, shaking. "There is a white rat in there, and it is the size of a dog! I mean, huge! With fangs."

Willard gasped. 'Socrates!' He peered round the door into the storeroom, hoping that Socrates would stay safely hidden.

Martin peered on the bottom shelf. "I don't see any mouse."

Mrs. Leach sighed in annoyance. "He's up higher, you idiot."

"I think your wild ass imagination is playing tricks on you, Barbara. There is no…" He looked up and into the scared eyes of Socrates. "Aha! There he is!"

Willard shivered, knowing if he said anything he'd probably be fired on the spot. 'Socrates, please, hide, run, hide!'

Mr. Martin looked around for a weapon, and his eyes fell on a Christmas tree dowel with a metal edge. He hefted it, and then drove it straight into Socrates.

The rat squealed in pain, and Willard nearly vomited. He watched in numbed horror as Socrates' beautiful white fur became dabbed with blood under the continued assault of Mr. Martin. Socrates blinked, dazed and dying, and Martin bought back the dowel for one last thrust.

"Walt-this is Mickey-coming to join you!" He drove the dowel home and Socrates gave one final screech and went limp. Martin grinned, and then headed out of the room, waving the blood soaked dowel in front of a sickened Willard. "What's the matter tiger, can't take a little blood?" Willard turned away, pale and trembling.

Martin handed the dowel to Mrs. Leach. "Here you go. Finder's Keepers."

Mrs. Leach gagged at the dowel. "He…expects me to clean that up?"

Willard gently took it from her, still fighting the urge to throw up. "I'll do it." The dowel was shoved in his hands, and Mrs. Leach returned to her desk, leaving Willard alone. He walked into the storeroom, and stared at Socrates, tears in his eyes. Ben, seated atop a tall shelf, watched.

Willard took a breath, and began muttering. "What could I do? What could I do? What could I do? What could I do? What could I do?" He blinked, then turned and looked up at Ben, an insane smile on his face. "What could we do?"

He was the Rat King, he thought, and it was time he put his Army to use. 'Martin will regret this.' He giggled insanely, then gently scooped up Socrates and placed him in his pocket heedless of the blood. Ben climbed down from his perch and into Willard's briefcase. "Good boy, Ben. Let's go home."

He stumbled into the house, the mad grin still fixed on his face, and collapsed into a chair, sobbing. "Socrates…"

He gently drew forth the rat, stroking the limp body. "You were supposed to be our pet, Socrates. I was going to let our children play with you." He softly kissed his head, not caring about the blood. "Martin will pay for what he did, I promise."

He cleaned the blood off Socrates' fur and gently placed him in the urn containing his father's ashes, then looked at Ben. "I've got someplace I need to go first, but I promise, once I'm back-Martin's hours are numbered."

Abbie knew something was wrong when she spotted Willard's car parked haphazardly in front of her building. Feeling more than a little nervous, she headed upstairs, and gulped in slight fear when she noticed her apartment door standing open. She walked in, and gasped at the sight before her.

Willard was seated on the couch, his legs drawn up to his chest. He was staring into space, rocking back and forth slowly as he muttered under his breath.

Abbie carefully shut the door, and then sat next to him, speaking softly. "Willard? Baby, what's wrong?" No response and Abbie touched his arm. "Willard?" He turned and looked at her for a full minute, then buried himself in her arms, sobbing. Abbie held him as he cried, gently stroking his back. "Baby, what happened?"

"So…Socrates…he…he's…dead."

Abbie's eyes widened in grief. "Oh no! What happened?"

Willard took a breath, and then told her everything. "I just stood there! I did nothing while he was killing my friend! I couldn't move! He died because I was too much of a fucking coward to speak up!" He grinned madly, and Abbie gulped. "But I'm going to get even with Martin. He's going to regret ever hurting Socrates. Oh, he's going to regret it." Willard giggled, his hand on his mouth, and then looked over at Abbie. "I'm scaring you, aren't I?"

"No. Willard, if you expect me to give you a lecture about how we should turn the other cheek, forgive and forget, and all that jazz, then you'll be disappointed. I'm also not going to tell you that revenge is wrong, or that Socrates was just a dumb rat. What Martin did was horrible, and if you ask me, he deserves to be stripped to the bones by your rats. The only thing you'll get from me is Godspeed and good luck, and I hope the bastard suffers."

Willard grinned evilly. "Oh, he will. I'll make sure of that."

Abbie giggled madly, clapping. "Good, and when you're done with him, come back over so we can start discussing wedding plans."

Willard laughed and kissed her. "You're almost as crazy as I am, Abbie. I knew I loved you for a reason. But you can't…we can't…"

"Can't what? Get married? Why the hell not?"

Willard turned and faced her. "Abbie, it's very likely that I won't have a job, a house, or any money very soon. What could I possibly give you? Nothing!" He gave a short, barking laugh. "Hell, I probably couldn't even afford to buy you a damned veil!"

Abbie glared at him. "So everything you told me last night, about wanting to marry me no matter what, was that all bullshit? Were you just spouting the latest tips from Esquire about how to get your woman to say yes to anything you ask? Did you actually mean one word of it?"

"Of course I did! But Abbie, we still need something to live on! If we got married now, we'd have precisely zilch. No money, no home, nothing! I don't want you to have to go through all that!"

"I've gone through all of it my whole fucking life! I have struggled, and scrimped, and gone hungry many, many nights. I'm not exactly rolling in dough either! But I love you, and I want nothing more in the world than to be your wife. Don't run away from me, please. I don't care about money, or houses, or anything like that. I only care about you. Please, Willard-don't back out of our engagement."

He looked at her. "Abbie, I can't even afford a ring. Do you honestly think I could afford anything else?"

Abbie gently cupped his face in her hands. "You listen to me, Willard Stiles, because I'm only saying this once. I don't care if we have to get married in the courthouse with me in a second or third hand dress and a bouquet of dollar store daises. I don't care if we have to spend our wedding night at this apartment and our honeymoon in Central Park. I don't care if we have to struggle for a few years before we're able to stand on our own two feet. All I care about is hearing the priest or justice of the peace pronouncing us man and wife."

Willard gulped, and then kissed her passionately. "Me too. Abbie…I need to go. I think…I think it's best that I don't tell you what I'm planning to do tonight to Martin, but it probably won't be pretty. Are you completely certain you want to marry a man who is capable of…?"

"Yes. I'm completely certain. I'm not afraid of you, Willard, and I never will be." She kissed him. "Now, times a wasting. Go gather your Army."

He smiled evilly, then kissed her. "Yes, my Queen."

Abbie watched him leave, a grim smile on her face. She hoped he made Martin suffer.


	10. Chapter 10 Revenge of the Rats

Where the Heart Lies

Chapter Ten: Revenge of the Rats

Willard was ready. He had gathered up as many of his rats as he could, piling them into the van that he had borrowed from work. The rats squeaked as they stumbled over each other, their bodies nearly up to the ceiling in the close confines. Ben, looking like a true General, sat on a shelf on the side of the van, watching as suitcase after suitcase of rats was emptied. Willard filled the van as full as he could, and then smiled madly at Ben. "Let's go visit Mr. Martin." He shut the back door of the van, making sure it was secure, and then drove off to Stiles and Martin Manufacturing, ready to pay a visit to his boss.

The parking lot was deserted save for Martin's car when Willard pulled the van up to the loading docks, making sure to park as close to the large doors as possible. He turned and looked at the rats, who were watching him carefully. "You all know what needs to be done. Let's go do it."

He exited the van, and then punched in the code that would open up the loading bay doors, pausing in slight fear when the doors squalled open. After counting to fifty, he was sure that Martin had not heard the noise. 'Whew.' He opened the van doors, and the rats came pouring out in a brown tidal wave, heading into the building at Willard's command.

He walked into the elevator, and the rats followed, pressing tightly against each other, and Willard felt a brief touch of claustrophobia. The rats were swarming about his ankles, squeaking, and Willard glared at them. "Still!" They obeyed, and Willard sighed in relief and waited for the elevator to reach its floor.

The elevator stopped, and as the doors opened, rats came pouring out in a brown wave, revealing the angry and vengeful Rat King. Willard started down the hall, his eyes gleaming in the darkness.

"Find his office." Six dozen rats scurried away, their noses twitching as they searched. Willard stepped into the office, grinning madly as he noticed that Mr. Martin's light was on and his door was open. He inched closer, keeping to the shadows as best as he could, and watched as the rats entered the office-first one, then two, and soon there were over a dozen. Some were perched on the top of the couch, others on the couch itself, and one was right next to the mouse.

Willard stepped into the storeroom, plucking the blood soaked dowel from the floor where he had dropped it, and smiled madly. 'Soon, Socrates. You will be revenged, I promise.'

Martin, who was supposedly staying late to work on the books for the Christmas bonus season, but was actually looking at porn, didn't notice the rats at first. Then he reached for his mouse and encountered warm fur. He jumped in surprise as the rat he had grabbed squeaked in indignation.

Martin swiveled his desk lamp so it fell square on the rat, and he gaped at it. "Where the hell did you come from?" The rat remained where it was, and gradually Martin realized that he could hear squeaking from the couch. He gulped, and then slowly focused his lamp on the couch, gasping in fear and shock.

"My God! Look at all the rats!" He jumped as he heard a voice answer.

"Yes. Look. At the rats." Willard stood in the doorway, a mad grin fixed on his face and his eyes blazing with vengeance as he stared at Socrates' killer. "We've come to see you."

Martin watched at rats swarmed into his office, and stared at Willard, angry and a little scared. "We?"

Willard grinned insanely, and Martin felt tendrils of fear crawl along his spine. He had never seen Willard like this-he looked ready to rip him apart with his bare hands. "They'll do anything I tell them."

"Then tell them to get the fuck out of my office!" Martin yelled, and Willard's grin became a rictus. He went slightly pale, and Willard stared at him, eyes almost black with fury. "Sit down, Mr. Martin."

Martin began to sink into his chair, scared and indignant. "Now you listen to me Willard!"

"SIT! DOWN!" Willard screeched, brandishing the dowel at him, and Martin sat, his eyes fixed on the madman in front of him. Willard stepped into the office, and advanced on him, speaking in a voice of barely suppressed rage.

"Mr. Martin-you stole this company from my father. It killed him, and it killed my mother. And now you're trying to kill me."

"No, I..."

"You…never left me alone for a minute. You made a fool of me in front of everybody, and now-you're trying to take my house and leave me with no means of providing for Abbie. You made me…hate myself. I thought a lot about it-hating myself. Well, right now, at this moment-I. Like myself."

Willard shoved the dowel into Martin's chest, punctuating each word with a sharp jab. "You. Killed. Socrates."

Martin looked up at him, confused and scared. "Who the hell is Socrates?"

"He was the only friend I ever had!" Willard grunted in surprise as Martin knocked the dowel out of his hand and sent him crashing against the couch. 'Run run as fast as you can.' Willard clambered to his feet. "Follow."

Martin ran down the hall, pursued by Willard's army, and backed into the elevator, certain that he would be able to shut the doors against them and escape. But he was wrong.

Ben dropped from the ceiling where he had been hiding and landed on Martin's neck, biting deep into his jugular, and Martin screamed in pain and terror as a geyser of blood was released. He collapsed to his knees, trying desperately to shake off the monster that clung to him, and the rats poured in under the door, biting every bit of him they could reach. He screamed and flailed, but for every one rat he managed to toss off, three took its place.

Willard came forward, eyes gleaming in mad joy at the sight of Martin covered in rats. He ratcheted the elevator doors closed, locking them, and then stabbed at Martin's legs through the bars. "What's the matter, tiger? Can't take a little blood?"

Martin fell on his back, still screaming, and one of the rats tore a chunk out of his right cheek. Willard spoke in a grim whisper. "Tear him up."

He slapped the button for the elevator, and as it started to descend Willard locked eyes with Ben and smiled. "Goodbye, Ben!" He stood by the elevator, listening with grim satisfaction to the sounds of Martin screaming in pain as he was devoured. Finally, the sounds died down, and Willard left the building, driving carefully home. The last thing he needed was to get picked up for a traffic violation.

He walked into the house, wading through the rats, and went to the kitchen. Now came the hardest part of all. He found the poison tucked away behind a bottle of cleaning fluid, and went down to the basement, pouring it into a large dish. "Food. Food, everybody. Food."

He turned and went up the stairs, not wanting to watch the rats in their death throes, and found a smoke bomb. He gulped, then lit it and tossed it down into the basement, then slammed the door shut and sat against it, waiting. It didn't take long, and Willard clapped his hands over his ears to block out the horrible sounds.

After, he cleaned up the dead rats, burning them, and then sealed up the house-plastering the walls, shutting the flue, and duct taping the toilet seat shut-he wanted no ingress anywhere.

By the time he finished, he was reeling from exhaustion. He staggered up the stairs and into his bedroom, collapsing on top of the covers. He was asleep in five minutes.

_"Hello?"_

"Abbie?"

_"This is she. Who's this?"_

"Cathryn. Listen, have you seen Willard lately? I'm a bit worried about him. He and Mr. Martin got into it yesterday and…"

_"And what?"_

"Well, Abbie-the police were by here earlier. They said that Martin's been killed-and possibly chewed on by animals."

_"I saw Willard last night, but he only told me he'd been fired. We spent most of the night discussing our wedding plans."_

"Oh. Well, I think we should go and tell him about Martin. I'm actually almost there-I'm calling from the car. Do you think you could meet me near his house?"

_"Yeah, sure. Give me five minutes, alright?"_

"Alright."

Abbie hung up, staring at the phone. She hadn't wanted to lie to Cathryn, but she knew if she had told her the truth-that she knew exactly what Willard was going to do and had encouraged it-Cathryn would view her as an accomplice to murder. She took a fortifying breath, and then headed to the nearby bus stop, dialing Willard's number on the way.

Willard bolted out of sleep when his phone went off right next to his ear. He cursed, glancing at the clock, and for a brief moment his thought was 'Shit, I'm late for work.' But then he realized he had no work to be late for, and he relaxed and answered the phone. "Hello?"

_"Hey, it's me."_

"Hey Abbie baby."

_"Willard, you call me Abbie baby again and I'll reach through the phone and rip your lungs out."_

"Sorry Abbie baby. It won't happen again Abbie baby. I apologize Abbie baby."

_"Willard…you're really skating, darling. I actually called for a reason."_

"Oh?"

_"Yeah…Cathryn called me. It seems the police got in touch with her and told her Mr. Martin had been, and I quote 'killed and possibly chewed by animals'. She asked me if I knew anything."_

Willard gulped. "What…what did you tell her?"

_"The truth, sort of. I didn't know what you were planning to do, but I know whatever you did was justified. Was there much blood?"_

"Yes. Who would have thought the old man to have so much blood in him?"

_"Indeed. And the rats?"_

Willard shuddered, walking downstairs to find some food for breakfast. "I…killed them. Socrates was the only one I gave a damn about. But God, hearing them scream….I had nightmares." He paused, hearing a sound from above, and turned and stared into the bloody face of Ben. "Jesus Christ."

_"Willard, what's wrong?"_

"Abbie…I have to go."

_"Willard, what is going on? !"_

"Goodbye, Abbie."

_"Willard, don't you dare…Shit!" _Abbie stared at her phone, worried. 'Willard…'

The bus pulled up at the stop by Willard's house, and Abbie ran out, noticing with trepidation the police cruiser parked nearby. Cathryn's car was in front of the house, and Abbie walked up to her. "Cathryn?"

"Abbie! He won't let me in. I've knocked a dozen times, and there's no answer. I was about to look in the windows, see if I can see anything."

"Ma'am, do you mind if we ask you a few questions before you try breaking into a home?"

Abbie turned to the policeman that had spoken. He was about forty, with sandy hair and a pleasant countenance. "No, not at all. Fire away."

"Thank you Ma'am. May I have your names?"

"Annabelle Carsons and she's Cathryn Harring."

"And how do you two know Mr. Stiles?"

"Miss Harring is an ex coworker of his, and I'm his fiancé."

The cop nodded. "How long have you known Mr. Stiles?

Cathryn thought for a moment. "Almost two months, I think. I honestly don't keep track."

"I see. Miss Carsons?"

"One month and one week. We met in the supermarket-we literally ran into each other."

"Miss Carsons, did you ever meet Mr. Martin?"

Abbie nodded, impatient. "Yes, once, he was an asshole, could we please try and see if Willard is alright? ! Or do you want to know more useless shit?"

Meanwhile, inside the house Willard was in serious trouble. He had thought Ben was gone for good, but like a vengeful spirit the giant rat had returned, bringing reinforcements. Willard sat against the kitchen wall, staring in terror at him. "Ben! I…I'm sorry I left you there. I…I got scared, and I left you there. But…you made it back." He shuddered as Ben continued to stare at him, his black eyes accusatory. "There was nothing I could do about Socrates." He giggled insanely. "But…we got Mr. Martin back. We got Mr. Martin back together, didn't we?"

He rested his head against his chest, sobbing quietly, and then jerked it up when he heard his name being called. 'Abbie!'

"WILLARD! WILLARD OPEN THE DOOR!"

Willard slowly stood, eyes still fixed on Ben.

"It's all over for you, Ben. You can go….anywhere! You can live…anywhere! I have nowhere!"

One of the policemen heard him. "Who the hell's he talking to?"

The other one came forward, shining his flashlight into the gloomy house. "This guy's nuts. We should call Bellevue."

Abbie spun around, her eyes blazing with fury. "Don't you dare! He is not insane! WILLARD!" She pounded on the door, and the cops sighed, and then gasped as their flashlights picked up something else.

"Jesus, it's not just Bellevue. We've got to call the Health Department and exterminators! There must be a thousand rats in that house!" One looked at Abbie. "Miss, unless you want to get eaten alive, I'd come away from there."

Cathryn gasped. "Martin."

Willard slowly advanced towards the kitchen counter, his eyes focused on the bag that rested atop it. Inside the bag, at the very top, was a rat trap. Willard slowly opened the bag, speaking in a soothing tone to Ben. "Do you want some food? I'll give you all the food I've got if you'll just go…away. It's food, Ben. Only food."

Ben sniffed, and Willard nodded. "That's right, Ben. Food. Come on and get it."

Ben leaned forward, falling into the bag and onto the trap with a squeak of shock. Willard stumbled back against the wall, eyes wide in hate and triumph.

"THAT'S IT FOR YOU, BEN! I HATE YOU! I LOVED SOCRATES, BUT I! HATE! YOU!"

He stood for a few moments, breathing heavily, and then came forward, gasping when he saw the empty bag. He looked wildly around for Ben, gulping in fear when he noticed rats heading for him. He ran, searching frantically for an escape, and the rats blocked his way to the front door. Willard turned, grabbing a chair and smashing a window. He climbed up, trying to force his way through the bars.

Abbie heard the glass smash and turned, eyes widening. "Willard!"

"Abbie! Help me! Help!"

She started to open the door, and one of the policemen wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her off the steps as she struggled madly.

"Let me go! Goddamn it, that's my fiancé in there! I'm not going to leave him! Let me go, you fuck! Willard!"

The cop tightened his grip. "I'm sorry Ma'am, but fiancé or no, I'm not letting you go in there. It's too dangerous."

"Fuck the danger and fuck you! WILLARD!" She tried once more to break free and struggled so wildly that the other policeman had to come help his partner restrain her. He spoke soothingly to her as she struggled. "Now Miss, I'm sure everything will be fine. See, he's not at the window anymore. I'm sure everything will be…"

A bloodcurdling scream came from the upstairs of the house, and Abbie froze in terror. "WILLARD! No, no, no, no, no, NO!" She slumped in between the arms of the cops, sobbing brokenly. "No…" She stared with blank eyes at the giant rat silhouetted against the glare from the streetlights, her mind numb from grief, then gasped as another shadow, this one man shaped, rose out of the gloom, falling onto the rat with a scream of rage, stabbing it over and over again.

Abbie gave a final scream and fainted.

*One Week Later*

"I want to see him."

"Miss, I told you, Mr. Stiles is practically catonic. He has not responded to any outside stimuli. Whatever happened to him drove him over the edge."

Abbie took a breath, then leaned in and spoke in a firm tone, emphasizing each word. "I want to see my fiancé. Now. And I'm not leaving this asylum until you let me."

"Miss, I told you..."

"I don't give a shit what you told me! I want to see Willard!"

"Miss Dolman, is there anything wrong?"

Abbie turned to face the speaker, a man of about fifty with grey hair and a drooping mustache. He smiled at her, and then addressed the receptionist. "Is there a problem?"

"This young lady wants to see Willard Stiles. She claims to be his fiancé."

"Really? My condolences, Miss?"

Abbie glared at him. "Annabelle Carsons. And you are?"

"Dr. Glover assigned to Mr. Stiles while he is a patient here."

Abbie gazed pleadingly at him. "Please, let me see him. Please. I don't care if he doesn't look at me. I just need to see him and talk to him."

Dr. Glover looked at her, considering, and then nodded. "Very well, but don't be surprised if he doesn't respond to you."

He led Abbie to Willard's room. "He's harmless, so you should be safe. I'll stand right outside the door just in case." Abbie nodded, and then stepped inside, tears flowing down her face at the sight before her eyes.

Willard was sitting on the bed, his legs crossed and his arms hanging limply as he stared into the middle distance. Healed rat bites were on his face and arms, and an uneaten tray of food sat in front of him.

Abbie stumbled forward, then sat next to him and gently touched his arm. "Willard? Baby, please look at me. Please, Willard, it's me. It's your Abbie. Please, baby, come back to me. I love you. Please…" she wrapped her arms around him, sobbing.

Willard felt a shift in the air. He blinked inwardly, trying to make his traumatized brain start working. He could feel something pressing against his side-something soft and warm, completely unlike the cold and rough walls of his cell. He took a breath, and was assaulted by several odors-his own sweat, the sour smell of the food, the sour-sweet smell of the cell, and peaches.

He paused, surprised. 'Peaches?'

He took a deeper breath, and the peach scent came back, stronger than ever. 'Why do I smell…ABBIE?'

Suddenly, memories came flooding back, and Willard began to shiver beneath their onslaught.

Abbie watched, fear in her eyes, as Willard shook violently, murmuring under his breath and screaming softly. "Willard!"

He gave one final, violent shudder, then turned and stared at her, his blue eyes bright with disbelief. "A…Ab…Abbie?"

"Yeah, baby, it's me."

Willard continued staring, then reached out and placed his hand on her cheek. "You're….really here."

Abbie clutched his hand, tears rolling down her face. "Yeah, I am. Baby, I'm so sorry this happened-I tried to get into the house, but I…." she was cut off by Willard kissing her passionately. She clung to him, kissing back just as hard, tasting the salty tears that flowed down his face.

"Abbie….my Abbie….you didn't leave me…my goddess….I thought I'd never see you again…Abbie…" He pulled away and stared at her, his face pleading. "Get me out of here, please. I can't bear it here. Please, get me out." He clung to her, and Abbie gulped, stroking his back.

"I'll try, I promise. I'm sure I can convince Cathryn to help me. We'll have you out in time for New Years."

"Miss? I'm afraid visiting hours are over." Dr. Glover stood in the doorway, a small smile on his face as he noticed that Willard was clinging to her, his eyes shut in silent thanks. "Miss Carsons?"

Abbie gently disentangled herself from Willard. "I heard you, Doctor. Willard? Babe, I have to go, but I promise, the next time you see me, you'll be a free man."

Willard whimpered as she slowly slid off the bed. "Abbie…"

"I'll be back soon, I promise. We've still got a wedding to plan, after all." She gave him a lingering kiss, then left the hospital, determined to find a way of setting him free.

_**Author's Note-Just a few more chapters to go, and a bit of explanation-Cathryn isn't given a last name in the movie, so I took the last name of the actress that played her and used that. You probably can guess where 'Dr. Glover' came from. Also, Socrates II will make an appearance-but in a slightly different manner. (From here on, I go off the movie.) **_


	11. Chapter 11 Homecomings

Where the Heart Lies

Chapter Eleven: Homecomings

Willard sat in the doctor's office, nervously wringing his hands. He kept glancing at the clock, and Dr. Glover chuckled. "Willard, the clock won't run any faster if you stare at it, you know. Be patient, Miss Carsons should be finished with the paperwork soon enough."

Willard stared at him. "I know, but I'm ready to leave. You told Abbie that it would only take a few moments, and I've been sitting here for hours!"

Dr. Glover laughed. "Willard, you've been sitting there for five minutes."

Willard pouted. "Feels like hours."

It was one week before Christmas, and Abbie had successfully campaigned to have Willard released from Bellevue. Willard still remembered the day he had found out that he was getting out…

_Willard walked into the visitor's room, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Abbie seated at the table. She was wearing a light blue sweater and blue trousers, and her hair was hidden by a black cap. She looked up and spotted him, and her face split into a large grin. "Hey babe."_

_He walked over to the table and sat in the chair across from her. "Hi. I've missed you, you know. It's hard sleeping without you next to me."_

_Abbie nodded, reaching across the table and linking her hand in his. "Same here, babe. But I've got good news. You're getting out. I talked to your doctor, and he said that you could be discharged. He told me you'd probably have some nightmares for a while due to trauma, but I told him that I would help you get through those. I guess I just couldn't bear the thought of you in this place. You might be crazy, but you're not insane."_

_Willard stared at her in happy shock. "I'm getting out?"_

_Abbie laughed. "That's what I said. It may take a few days to clear everything, and you'll have to go to a hearing to determine your sanity, but God willing and the creek don't rise, you'll be home in time for Christmas."_

_Willard gulped. "Abbie-what home? I'm sure by now mine's been condemned, and your apartment just isn't big enough for two people. What home do I have?"_

_Abbie just smiled mysteriously. "You'll see, I promise."_

Willard glanced once more at the clock, and was wondering if perhaps Time had decided to stop completely, when Abbie walked into the office, her arms full of papers. She plunked them down on the desk, and then gave Doctor Glover a mock glare. "There. Everything's filled out. Can I take my man home now?"

Dr. Glover rifled through the pile, nodding and muttering. "Mmm humm, good, good. Well, Miss Carsons, he's all yours. Willard, I'm glad to see you leave, but I will miss you. Is there anything in your cell that you'd like to take home with you?"

Willard nodded, and Dr. Glover smiled. "Well, you may go get it."

Willard grinned, and ran to his cell, returning a few moments later-and Abbie's eyes widened as she spotted a white furred face peeking from inside his shirt pocket. Fortunately, Dr. Glover failed to spot the animal. "Did you get what you needed, Willard?"

Willard nodded, and Dr. Glover grinned. "That's good. Well, goodbye-and Merry Christmas."

Willard smiled. "Merry Christmas to you too, Dr, and goodbye." He followed Abbie out to the parking lot, and looked around, noticing a distinct absence of transportation. "Abbie, how are we getting out of here?"

"I called Cathryn, she's going to come and pick us up and take us to the station. Now, it's my turn to ask the questions. Is that a rat in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

Willard grinned widely and gently removed the rat from his pocket. It stared at Abbie, and she marveled at how much it resembled Socrates. Willard stroked it, speaking softly. "At first, I thought Socrates had come back to me somehow, but…he couldn't have. I think maybe this is his sister or brother. But we had to be quiet, or they would have come and taken him-or her-away from me. I think maybe Socrates is looking after me, giving me a part of him."

Abbie gently stroked the rat between its ears. "I'm no expert, but I think this is a girl. She's slightly smaller than Socrates. What are you going to call her?"

Willard shrugged. "I don't know. What should I call her?"

Abbie grinned. "Well, she's the successor to Socrates, his pupil in a way. Why not call her Plato?"

Willard laughed. "Plato?" He paused, and then beamed. "Actually, that's perfect. Hello, Plato."

The newly christened Plato chittered, and Willard grinned at Abbie. "She likes the name."

"Good. Cathryn's here."

Cathryn's car pulled up in the parking lot, and she got out, face wreathed in smiles. She hugged Willard, and he awkwardly patted her back. Abbie hid a smile-he still was reluctant to receive affection from anyone but her. Cathryn pulled out of the hug, still smiling. "I'm so glad you're out of this place, and just in time for Christmas, too. Do you and Abbie have any plans?"

"No."

"Yes."

Willard looked at Abbie in confusion. "We do have plans?"

Abbie smirked. "Well, we don't, but I do, and you're a big part of those plans." She laughed at his puzzled expression. "What, you think all I did while you were in here was mope around my apartment? I was sure you'd be released, so I took care of some things upstate."

"What kind of things?"

"The kind of things you'll have to wait to find out about. Cathryn, could you drive us to the station?"

Cathryn nodded. "Of course." They all climbed into the car, Abbie and Willard in the back, and Willard immediately pulled Abbie into his arms and planted a soft kiss on her jaw. "I missed this, baby." He kissed her throat, moaning softly, and Abbie whimpered.

"Willard…we…need to behave." She tilted her head and looked up at him, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "After all, it'd be a shame if Cathryn got into a wreck because of us. Just…control yourself for a few more hours, okay?"

Willard heaved a sigh and pouted. "I haven't seen you naked in three weeks, Abbie. There's only so much torture a man can take. I don't know if I can wait any longer."

Abbie patted his arm in mock sympathy. "You poor dear. But you're going to have to wait. After all, you waited three weeks, what's a few hours more?"

Willard sighed again. "Very well, I'll wait."

Abbie leaned up and gave him a quick kiss. "Good."

Cathryn giggled to herself as she listened to their exchange. 'They're so sweet together.' She spoke up as she noticed a road sign. "We're almost to the station, guys. Abbie, which train are you taking?"

"The one that goes into the Adirondacks. I think it's the Mountain Line, platform seven."

Willard was confused. "Why are we going to the Adirondacks?"

Abbie rolled her eyes at him. "For Christmas. Don't worry, everything will become clear."

"When?"

"In a few hours." They arrived at the station and Cathryn dropped them off at the platform. Abbie went round to the trunk and pulled out two suitcases, laughing at Willard's gobsmacked face. "I stopped by the store and picked you up some clothes for the trip. I had to guess your size. You'll get to see them in a bit. Cathryn, thank you for the ride, and have a Merry Christmas."

Cathryn smiled at them. "You too. Willard, I'm so glad you're feeling better."

"Thank you, but I'd feel even better if my girl would quit being so bloody mysterious and tell me where we're going." He gave Abbie a reproachful gaze. "You want to fill me in yet?"

She grinned and shook her head. "Nope! What I want to do is go buy the tickets. Wait here."

Willard sighed, his hands in his pockets. "Fine." A soft chittering came from his shirt pocket, and he grinned. "Plato's hungry."

Abbie pointed over her shoulder. "There's a vending machine over there, I'm sure you can find something to keep her from starving to death."

Willard shrugged expressively. "No money."

Abbie dug in her pocket and pulled out a crumpled dollar bill. "Here. Go get the poor ratty some food. I need to buy tickets."

She went up to the window, and the ticket taker barely glanced up from his computer. "Where you heading?"

"White Creek."

The man nodded, punched in the destination, and then spoke in the same bored voice. "How many are traveling with you?"

"One, my fiancé. He's just been released from hospital."

More punching of keys. "Will he require any medication or special attention?"

"No, he just came from Bellevue. He had a bad shock a few weeks ago."

"Will you want first class or coach?"

Abbie grinned. "First class, please."

"All done. That will be $68 please. Cash or credit?"

Abbie pulled out her wallet and handed the man $68 in cash. "There you go."

He nodded, and printed out two tickets. "There you are, Miss. Two first class tickets. Enjoy your trip."

"I will thank you."

Five minutes later, Abbie and a very surprised Willard were sitting in their own private compartment. Willard looked around, and then stared suspiciously at Abbie. "Abbie, how the hell are you affording all this?" His eyes went wide with pretend fright. "You didn't rob a bank, did you?" Plato was curled up on a shelf, sleeping.

Abbie laughed. "No, I didn't, and I didn't get a gigantic raise at work, either." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded and crumpled sheet of paper, then handed it over to him. "I got this in the mail a few days after you were admitted to the hospital. To be honest, a lot of my running around had to do with that."

Willard set the letter on a nearby table and smoothed it out, eyes widening as he read the contents.

_Dear Miss Carsons: _

_I represent the Law Firm of Dell, Mead, and Fine. We are the trustees of your grandparents' estate. It is our pleasure to inform you that under the provisos given in their Wills, you are the sole inheritor of their estate and monies. Said estate consists of a large cabin in the Adirondacks and a townhome on the Upper West Side. The monies consist of $50, 000 in cash and savings bonds, and approximately $20,000 in stocks and bonds. _

_I am sorry for not getting in touch sooner, but your grandparents' wished for the monies and estate to remain in escrow until your twenty eighth birthday. _

_Please stop by our office at your earliest convenience to iron out all details. _

_Yours truly, _

_Jack Mead, Esq. _

Willard read the letter three more times, his eyes getting wider each time. He slowly turned and faced Abbie. "Abbie…you're rich."

She nodded. "Yes, I suppose I am. It turns out my grandfather on my Dad's side had been a rather shrewd businessman, and he saved up a lot of money. Course, I never knew that. He and my grandma lived pretty simply. They used to come for a visit every summer. It didn't matter where Dad was stationed, the first two weeks of summer, Mamaw and Papaw came to visit. They even visited us when we lived in Germany."

"How old were you when they..."

"Died? Seven, going on eight. They had lung cancer, which wasn't too surprising since they both smoked like chimneys. I remember Papaw smoked cheroot cigarettes. Mamaw preferred Lucky Strikes."

Willard chuckled, then crossed the compartment and sat next to her, pulling her into his arms and kissing her with every bit of passion he could manage. She groaned into his throat and wrapped her arms around him, clutching his back.

He brushed his tongue along her lips, and she opened her mouth, allowing him access, her mind hazy with the delicious taste of him-tangy and spicy sweet. His hands roved up and down her back, and he slowly pushed her down onto the seat, never breaking the kiss. Abbie moaned, and Willard moved to her throat, sucking the flesh almost desperately. "Abbie…god baby I need to make love to you…I need to taste you…"

Abbie groaned in response, and began frantically tugging at Willard's shirt. He smirked inwardly and helped her, tossing it aside as soon as it was loose, and Abbie whimpered in delight, her hands running up and down his chest, and Willard shut his eyes and moaned when her fingers caressed his nipple. "Abbie…"

He took her shirt in his fists, yanking it off as swiftly as he could, then reached behind her and deftly unhooked her bra, leaving her clad only in her trousers. He stared at her, his eyes blazing. "God, baby, you have no idea how horny I am right now."

Abbie smirked evilly at him. "Oh, don't I?" She slid her hands down to his crotch, and her eyes widened in comic shock at the size of his erection. "My, you are rather eager, aren't you?"

Willard kissed her breasts, flicking his tongue across her nipples, and Abbie moaned as they hardened beneath his touch. "Eager doesn't begin to cover it, love. I hope you're prepared for a very long night."

Abbie could only moan as he moved down her body, kissing, licking, and nipping every bit of her. "God Willard…"

He lingered on her stomach, flicking his tongue across her navel, and moaned happily. "Abbie…you feel so damn good…" He slipped his hand inside her waistband, sliding it downwards to rest on her damp curls, and his eyes widened when he felt how wet she was. He looked up at her, eyes full of mirth. "I guess I'm not the only eager one. You seem to be melting, but…I…need…to make…sure." With each word, he slid his hand further down, stroking and caressing her until she was soaked through. "Oh god baby…you are very nicely melted." He slid one finger inside her, gently curling, and Abbie nearly leapt off the seat and softly shouted his name. Then his finger brushed against the hard nub of her clit, and Abbie felt fireworks go off in her head.

"Willard…please…."

Willard couldn't hold himself back any longer. He peeled off Abbie's trousers and panties, moaning in desire as her luscious body was revealed to his gaze. He inhaled, breathing in her peaches and clove scent, then slowly exhaled, breathing on her wet center, and Abbie shouted incoherently and gripped the seat.

He bent his head, gently kissing and licking her inner thigh, and Abbie whimpered. "Willard…please…"

"Please what, Abbie?"

"Willard…" Abbie's voice held a note of frustration, and Willard smiled.

"Tell me what you want, Abbie." He licked her thigh, and Abbie whimpered louder.

"I…I want…"

"Yes, baby?"

"I want you to devour me…"

Willard chuckled darkly and slowly flicked the tip of his tongue against her wet slit. "Do you?" Abbie whimpered, nodding in response, and Willard licked her again. "So good…god, you have no idea how much I've missed this…." He shifted slightly so his lips were firmly pressed against Abbie's center, and gave a small sigh of satisfaction before plunging his tongue deep inside her.

Abbie shouted in joy as she felt her lover's tongue plunging in and out of her, devouring every last inch. Her eyes were half shut, and she gripped him tightly with her hips as white light exploded behind her eyelids. She clenched his shoulders, undulating her hips and muttering incoherently.

"Oh…god baby…Willard….oh god your tongue is amazing…oh…fuck Willard…oooohhh….there….fucking hell baby that feels fantastic…Willlaarrdd…I….I…. OH MY GOD!"

She screamed to the heavens as she felt her orgasms race through her, leaving her breathless and trembling like a leaf-and then Willard swiftly moved up her body, placing the tip of his erection against her, and Abbie had a brief moment to wonder when he had removed his pants when he plunged into her, driving away any chance of coherent thought.

"OHHHH…."

Willard made love to her almost frantically, kissing her passionately as he moved roughly inside her. "Abbie…god…"

Abbie wrapped her legs around his waist, silently urging him on, and Willard obeyed, moving against her body with a growl of pleasure.

"Abbie…I love you…I missed you…you're mine…my goddess…my girl….my world…my lover…mine…."

"God yes Willard…I love you…I'm yours…I love you…I love you…I….WILLARD!"

Abbie screamed in ecstasy as she came, her body shaking and trembling like a live wire. Willard came a few minutes later, roaring her name. "ABBIE!"

They lay where they were for a few moments, panting heavily. Abbie ran her fingers through Willard's sweat damp hair. "I really missed this."

"Mmm."

Abbie chuckled softly. "Wonder if anyone heard us."

Willard chuckled breathlessly. "I'm sure we're not the first people to have sex on a train. And if someone did hear us-let's hope we inspired them." He grinned wickedly at her, and she giggled. "The porter probably won't even mention it."

He turned out to be right. Their porter merely handed them their luggage, smiled at them and wished them a Merry Christmas as they left the train.

Willard looked around. They were in the middle of nowhere-and he had no idea how he and Abbie were going to get to her cabin. He knew what they were going to do there, though. "Abbie?"

"Yeah?"

"How are we supposed to get to the cabin without a car?"

Abbie grinned. "We've got a car. It's a few yards down the road. You'll have to drive it though, I don't have my license."

The car turned out to be a late model sedan. "Abbie, is this your car?"

"It belongs to a friend; she's letting me borrow it. Come on, I want to get to the cabin. I'll give you directions."

Willard followed her excellent directions, and in thirty minutes he pulled up in front of a cozy cabin tucked away in a shady glen. There was a large wrap around porch, and the paint on the cabin looked fresh and new. He grinned-he hadn't even set foot in it yet, and already he felt like he had come home. "It's beautiful."

Abbie nodded, then leaned over and kissed him. "Welcome home, Willard."


	12. Chapter 12 Holidays and Happiness

Where the Heart Lies

Chapter Twelve: Holidays and Happiness

_**Author's Note-Last chapter, so it's going to be a bit shorter. The next story will deal with the wedding, I promise. I hope you've enjoyed my first attempt at a multi chapter Willard fan fiction. **_

The inside of the cabin was even nicer than the outside. A large stone fireplace took up one wall, and placed directly in front of it was a large couch. A small dining table stood in an alcove directly across from the couch, and the kitchen was directly across from the alcove. There was a small hallway leading to an open door through which Willard could see a glimpse of a bed. A large window in the dining alcove opened up onto a breathtaking view of the mountains. Willard had never seen any place more perfect.

"Abbie, this is beautiful."

Abbie smiled. "Yeah, but wait until we decorate it for Christmas. It's going to look amazing."

Willard looked at her, confused. "I'm sure it would, but we have nothing to decorate. No tree, nothing." Abbie merely smiled mysteriously, and Willard frowned at her. "Okay, Abbie, what are you not telling me?"

She grinned. "Go take a look at what's on the back porch."

Puzzled, Willard complied-and his eyes widened in shock and joy. Propped up against the wall of the cabin was the biggest spruce he had ever laid his eyes on, and boxes were piled high on the porch. He goggled at the sight, and then looked at Abbie, completely mystified. "How?"

"The ornaments and such are from my apartment and from here as well. I've had them for a long time, and it's been a while since I've been able to afford a tree so I could use them. But now that I can, I dug them out of storage and sent them up here. The tree I got at a farm in town. Now that you've heard the explanations, help me haul it inside so we can set it up and start decorating this place for Christmas!"

Willard grinned widely. "Yes Ma'am! Uhhh…we do have a stand, right?" Abbie nodded. "Good. I'll carry the tree inside, you grab the stand."

They found the perfect spot for the tree-right in front of one of the large windows, and together they set it in the stand. Once it was straight, Willard tightened the screws so it wouldn't tip over.

Plato peeked her head out of Willard's pocket and sniffed at the tree, body quivering with curiosity. Willard gently scolded her. "No climbing this tree, Plato." Plato chittered in understanding, and Willard laughed. "You are just as bright as your brother."

"Are you going to talk to your rat or are you going to help me with these boxes?"

Willard smiled guiltily at Abbie. "Sorry. Of course I'll help you." He set Plato down on the mantel then went out to the porch and started hauling in boxes, piling them neatly in front of the tree. "Is this all going on the tree?"

Abbie nodded. "A lot of it is, but there's also some stuff for decorating the cabin, and I think there's a crèche in one of the boxes. We'll put that on the mantel. However, our first priority is finding the Christmas lights. I think they're in that box by your feet."

Willard looked down then at her, eyebrows raised. "You want to be more specific, babe? There are about seven boxes at my feet."

Abbie giggled. "Umm…try the third box from the left. See what's in that one." Willard opened the box, and sighed. "Only thing in here is a layer of dust. Hold on." He blew the dust out of the box, sneezed, and then peered in again. "No lights, but there's some garland. You want me to get it out?"

"Of course! Set it on the table for now." Abbie knelt down and began opening boxes, peering into their dusty depths. "Ornaments, ornaments, my stocking, more garland, icicles, AHA! Christmas lights!"

She pulled out a carefully wrapped set of miniature Christmas lights, grinning. "Found 'em. Now to make sure they actually work." She plugged them in and beamed when the string lit up. "Perfect. Willard, string the lights please. You can reach higher than I can."

Willard took the lights from her and hung them on the tree, then stepped back to admire his handiwork. "I can't remember the last time I decorated a tree. I think it was when my father was still alive, and even then it was more of an…" he paused, unable to think of the right word. Abbie smiled at him in sympathy.

"Obligation?"

Willard nodded. "That's the word. It was Christmas, and I was the one that decorated the tree. Mother would never do it, and Father was too busy dealing with the business to worry about the tree. He'd buy it, but beyond that, he just didn't give a damn."

"Did you have any favorite ornaments?"

"I did, but unfortunately they were broken. One was a panda bear wearing a Santa Claus hat, and another was a glass globe painted blue and red. I used to hold the globe up to the window, and watch the patterns the sunlight would make. I always made sure to hang that one near a light, so it would shine."

Abbie smiled, then handed him the garland. "Here. Red garland on a green tree always looks so pretty."

Willard nodded. "The colors of Christmas. Where's the start of this tangle?" Abbie showed him, and he smiled in slight embarrassment. "Thanks, love." He wrapped the garland around the tree, and then stepped back to admire his handiwork. "It looks beautiful already."

Abbie nodded. "It does, but just wait until we've got it all decorated. It'll be breathtaking." She reached in one of the boxes and handed him an ornament-a puppy dog with a Frisbee in its mouth. "Here. You can hang up the first ornament."

Willard gave a boyish grin and carefully hung the ornament on a branch, then looked over at Abbie for approval. She grinned and clapped her hands. "Well done, love."

He bowed slightly, grinning. "Why thank you my darling. I don't suppose we have any Christmas music to listen to while we decorate?"

"As a matter of fact, we do. Hold on a second, I'll be right back." Abbie disappeared into the bedroom, emerging a few minutes later with a CD player and CDs. "My collection of Christmas music." She set the player down on the table and handed Willard the CDs. "Here, you get first choice."

He rifled through them. "No, no, no, Yes. Here." He handed her a CD of the _Nutcracker._ "Perfect Christmas music."

Abbie smiled. "It certainly is. Excellent choice, babe." She started the CD, and smiled as the first strains of the beautiful ballet drifted around the small cabin. "I always loved this music. My parents would take me to see a performance of it every year."

Willard sighed. "My parents didn't really do anything for Christmas except throw really elaborate parties that I was expressly forbidden to attend. I would sneak out of my room and watch from upstairs, though."

Abbie smiled at him in sympathy. "We would go to the Christmas parties on whichever base my Dad was assigned to, and they varied. Some were rather boring, but the best one was the party at Hammonds Barracks in Mannheim. The townsfolk went all out, and we had a real feast. Borscht, Goulash, Wursts, fish, poultry, German chocolate, strudel, candy canes of every flavor, and more pastries and cakes than I'd ever seen in my life. But the best bit was when the CO of the Base dressed up as Santa Claus and gave out presents. I got a small teddy bear and a coloring book."

Willard chuckled. "What of?"

"Horses. I was going through a real horse craze at the time, so I was thrilled, especially since I had a brand new box of crayons as well."

"How old were you?"

"Nine. I wanted a horse of my own, but my parents said no. I did learn to ride, though."

Willard smiled, and then looked at the tree in admiration. "We're really doing a good job. One box is almost empty."

Abbie's eyes widened in mock surprise. "Just one box? We'd better hurry. There are still the cookies to make."

Willard's eyes widened in delight. "Cookies? I haven't had Christmas cookies since I was a kid. I'll have to sample the dough, make sure it's up to par. There's nothing worse than cookies made with subpar dough."

Abbie laughed. "I agree completely, and you may sample the dough. Just make sure you leave enough for actual cookie making, okay?" Willard nodded, and Abbie chuckled, shaking her head at his boyish antics. "You're very silly, you know."

He grinned and pulled her into his arms, giving her a quick kiss. "I know, but I'm also very happy. Can you guess why?"

Abbie pursed her lips in mock thought. "Hmmm…because you aren't in Bellevue anymore?"

He gazed seriously at her. "That's a minor part of it. I'm happy because I'm finally getting the chance to have a good life with a woman that I am hopelessly, completely, and madly in love with-a woman that is going to be my wife and didn't abandon me when things turned ugly. I'm happy because I'm finally free of the abuse and vitriol that I had to endure at the hands of my former boss and to some extent, my mother as well. I'm happy because my life has taken a turn for the better."

Abbie smiled, and then pulled him down into a deep kiss. "I love you too, Willard."

He grinned and kissed the tip of her nose. "I know. Now, what say we go make some Christmas cookies?"

Abbie giggled. "A wonderful idea. The dough's on the counter in a bowl. You'll have to fetch the flour down, though."

Willard saluted. "Point me to it, my love!"

"Third cupboard on your left. The cookie cutters should be in there too. Get those down."

"Yessum." He pulled down the flour, placing it carefully on the counter, and then swiped a bit of dough, popping it into his mouth before Abbie could do or say anything. "Delicious!"

Abbie glared at him, hands on hips. "Get the cutters down, please." She giggled as she heard a small chittering by her feet. Plato had come to investigate. Abbie picked her up and took a small bit of dough, holding it out to her. "You want to try some of this?" Plato nibbled a little bit of the dough, then wriggled happily and devoured the rest. Abbie laughed. "I'm glad you like it."

Willard placed the bag holding the cutters on the table and gave Abbie a mock glare. "So I snitch dough and you scold me, but you give Plato some on your own?"

Abbie giggled, stroking Plato between her ears. "Well, she is cuter." Willard pouted, then sighed.

"I can't argue with that. Plato is rather cute."

"She is. Now, shall we make the cookies?"

Willard nodded eagerly. "Yes please. I want to use the bell shaped cookie cutter first."

Abbie laughed and handed it to him. "There you go all yours. Just let me put some flour on the counter so the dough doesn't stick, and we can get started."

The cookie making was a huge success, although it did stop for a few moments when Abbie and Willard got into a flour fight and ended up looking like two Christmas spirits. But eventually all the dough was gone, having been made into cookies or simply eaten by the occupants of the kitchen.

Abbie spread the cookies out on a sheet. There were cookies shaped like bells, teddy bears, Santa, Christmas trees, stars, and even a few shaped like a crown. "These look wonderful. All that's left now is to pop them in the oven and wait for them to cook."

"Abbie, look out the window." Willard's voice was full of awe, and Abbie turned to look, gasping in delight at the snow that was steadily falling down.

"I think we might have a white Christmas."

Willard walked over and stood in front of the window, his eyes wide as he watched the snow. "It's beautiful." Abbie walked over to him, and he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulled her in front of him, and kissed her throat, swaying in time to the _Waltz of the Flowers_. "Thank you, my gorgeous girl."

"For what?"

"Everything."

Together they watched the snow fall, and Willard reflected on how incredibly lucky he was.

His heart had led him to a truly wonderful life.

THE END.


End file.
